To Keep Her Baby

by Melissa Senate

  She took the flowers and held them to her face and breathed them in. “Want to know something?”

  He waited.

  “No one’s ever given me flowers before,” she said. “Ever.”

  “Really?” He’d never spent much time thinking about Ginger’s life before she came into his. But now he pictured her in her old look, tottering on five-inch heels around a bar called Busty’s. Trying to meet her goals, trying to make her life work, trying to rise above. And never having a man in that life give her something so simple as a bouquet of flowers.

  She nodded. “I guess the guys in my life weren’t the flower-giving type. Thank you,” she added.

  “Bluebell is healthy and all is well,” he said, his voice sounding clogged to his own ears. “Speaking of Bluebell, have you picked out names?”

  She put her hand on her belly. “Yup. For a boy and a girl. But I’m keeping it a secret. Family superstition, according to something my mother told me once.”

  “Well, in my family, it’s tradition to treat someone to dinner after good news. No assessment, no etiquette. Just celebrating.”

  Her face lit up, and he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her.

  “That would be nice,” she said in a faux British accent.

  He smiled. “So let’s go give the Solero Sisters presentation a final proofread, then we’ll meet with them and then we’ll go to dinner.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said. And he knew he’d made her happy. Once again, he was struck by how well he did know her. Just a little change in her expression told him how she was feeling, what she was thinking.

  Stop it, he ordered himself. This doesn’t matter. The two of you aren’t meant to be. Just focus on work.

  As if that would help when Ginger was practically his business partner now.

  They continued down the sidewalk to his office, just a couple blocks away, then huddled in the conference room with dark-roast coffee for him and that chocolaty decaf for Ginger, going over the PowerPoint presentation that showed all aspects of the Soleros’ business. An hour later, they headed to the bakery, where Geneva and Antonia were waiting for them.

  James gave the sisters their handouts and started the presentation, which detailed not just profits and loss, but customer tracking; James had been tracking those figures for days, spreadsheets up the wazoo, and had been up till 2:00 a.m. finalizing the numbers.

  “As you can see, customers who come in for small baked goods, such as scones or croissants, are pleased to be offered free coffee, tea or lemon water, and it tends to make them order twice in the same visit—the initial order as they arrive and an additional one as they’re leaving, a box of cookies or cupcakes to go. Then within days, more than three-quarters of those customers order specialty cakes.”

  “Three-quarters?” Geneva repeated, her eyes wide. “Wow. That’s huge. I didn’t realize that.”

  He nodded. “A month ago, one customer who works for the town hall came in for a $2.75 muffin, probably enjoyed a cup or two of complimentary tea with cream and sugar, then in that same visit ordered a wedding cake for her daughter, a retirement cake for someone in her office and two birthday cakes for family parties. Her first visit was over two years ago, when she bought a single cupcake. Last week alone, twenty-two customers who came in for small baked goods called to order cakes ranging from $24 to $175.”

  “Huh,” Geneva said. “I didn’t realize the small baked goods had such an effect on repeat and bigger business.” She narrowed her eyes at her sister. “But someone has to make all those cakes! And that someone is going to be me!”

  “Well, that’s where a more personal business plan comes into play,” James said. “You’re sisters. Family. And nothing is more important than your sisterhood. Not the bakery. Not the cakes. Not the scones. Your relationship.”

  James watched Geneva closely, the way her shoulders fell, the sadness in her face. The woman was focusing on the numbers with her head, but it was her heart that was being torn apart by her own outlook. And outlooks could change.

  “You, Antonia,” James continued, “are going to be a mother and your life is going to change. Maybe you’ll be able to put in the same hours as you did before, maybe not. And you, Geneva, are going to be an aunt, and your life is going to change too. So coming up with a plan for how those changes will affect you both and how to keep customers satisfied, profits up and your relationship stronger than ever is key. I suggest we talk it out right now, envision scenarios and work up solutions that both of you feel good about.”

  Geneva’s expression brightened. “Well, that sounds good to me. Key word being both. But, James, it’s not as if you know what it’s like to be pregnant and working in a small business.” She gave the driest laugh ever. “Antonia says she’ll feel this way or that, and you can theorize, but you can’t account for reality.”

  James glanced at Ginger and gave her the slightest tilt of his head to indicate that the floor was hers, if she wanted it to be. He watched her closely now, and if she had any of those early butterflies, no one would ever know it. She looked cool as the ole cucumber, her expression full of equal parts confidence and empathy.

  Ginger stood up. “James can’t,” she said, her attention on the sisters. “But I can. I’m ten weeks, three days along.” She whipped her ultrasound photo from her purse. “And calling it as it is, is my middle name.”

  Yeah, it was. He’d made his share of mistakes in his life, but hiring Ginger? His best decision ever.

  There was lots of congratulating and hand shaking, and then they got down to business.

  And as he listened to Ginger talk about possible scenarios for the sisters, he wanted to jump up and clap with how sensible she was, how focused on common sense instead of emotion, which always managed to get the sisters back on track when one of them would throw out a yeah, but.

  She was getting inside every bit of him. And no matter how many times he cautioned himself against getting too close to her, he was drawn to everything she was. Because Ginger was truly amazing.

  * * *

  Ginger had been on cloud nine ever since leaving the Solero Sisters Bakery. How had she known all that stuff that had come tumbling out of her mouth? She’d been articulate, professional and, most important, realistic. It wasn’t like Ginger had more than a few days’ experience of working while being pregnant, and she had no idea what it would be like when she was in her second or third trimester. But her proposals had made sense to both sisters, and Ginger had surprised the hell out of herself.

  “You’re solution oriented,” James said. “Some people get fixated on the problem—who’s right, who’s wrong. That’s where Geneva was. But you were able to talk to her in a way that made her feel heard and understood, and your ideas sounded truly viable to her. You were amazing.”

  She stopped and took his face in both her hands and kissed him. She meant it to be friendly, a thank-you, but then it turned into something else. Appreciation became desire. And after the moment of hesitation she felt from James, he kissed her back.

  Yes! The man was kissing her. And not a peck either. A real kiss. Mmm, his lips were so warm and soft. Her knees were wet noodles as every nerve ending in her body was tingling. If this was how one kiss from this man affected her, what would he be like in bed?

  She loved thinking about it. Wondering. Fantasizing.

  But then the kiss was all over much too soon. He stepped back, cleared his throat and mumbled something about how inappropriate it was of him to kiss her given their new relationship as boss and employee.

  “But it still happened,” Ginger said, wriggling her eyebrows like Groucho Marx to lighten things up a bit.

  He seemed to be measuring his words. Okay, fine, the man was the solution king, and being good at that probably had a lot to do with reining in impulsivity rather than creating new problems by speaking before thinking.
But she sure wished James would let go a little.

  “And it shouldn’t happen again,” he finally said. “I like you, Ginger. Clearly. And yes, I find you very attractive. But we both know why it would be a very bad idea to start something.”

  “Because you’re leaving soon. And the thing about me being a package deal.”

  He nodded. “Exactly. Your priorities and mine are about as opposite as possible.”

  Jeez. What a sentence. What argument was there against that?

  He had her there—dammit. It was all true, and there was no way around it.

  “But we can’t miss my niece’s performance!” a woman’s voice practically shrieked from a few feet away.

  Ginger glanced over at her. The woman sat at a café table with a man, a baby stroller between them. The woman put her phone down on the table with a little thud.

  “Well, we’ve tried every sitter and relative,” the man said. “It’s Friday night and it’s two hours’ notice, Angela.”

  James leaned closer to Ginger and said, “They’re my neighbors.”

  He and Ginger walked over to the couple. “Hey,” he said to them. “I couldn’t help but hear your plight. Did you try my sisters? They love babysitting.”

  “Oh, hi, James,” the woman said, trying to smile through her frown. “Yup and all three are busy.”

  James nodded. “Ginger, this is Angela and Dom Maselo. They live two doors down from me. Angela, Dom, meet Ginger, my new assistant.”

  There were quick hellos and handshakes, and then Ginger beelined for the baby stroller and knelt in front of the sleeping beauty. “And who is this lil cutie?” she asked.

  “Gia,” Angela said, her voice full of her distracted disappointment. “She’s six months old. Guess we have no choice but to stay home. We can’t exactly take a baby to a school concert.” She stood up and collected her and her husband’s coffee cups.

  A light bulb pinged on over Ginger’s head. “If you’re looking for a sitter, I’m available,” she said, looking at the couple. She put her hand on her belly. “I’m almost three months along so I have babies on the brain. I’m happy to help out.”

  Angela’s face brightened. Her husband visibly sagged with relief.

  She bit her lip. “I should mention that I’ve never babysat before. I know that sounds impossible, but despite all the jobs I had since I was a teenager, from bagging groceries at the supermarket to working a taco truck to being a waitress, babysitting never came up. James can vouch for me as a responsible person though.”

  James looked from her to the now sort-of worried couple. Ginger could see they were weighing the choice—a newbie sitter who was game, an adult and the assistant of someone they knew, or missing their niece’s performance.

  “I can definitely vouch for Ginger,” he said.

  She smiled at him, the simple vote of confidence making her ridiculously proud. She hadn’t even babysat, but he had faith in her to do a great job. She wanted to kiss him again.

  “You’ve at least held a baby though, right?” Angela asked, hope blooming in her brown eyes.

  “Uh, no, actually,” Ginger admitted. “I’m an only, so no nieces and nephews of my own. Or friends with babies.”

  No one said anything for a moment. She understood their hesitation. This was their baby, and who’d want to leave a baby with someone they didn’t know and who’d never even picked up an infant? They had no reason to trust her. But, man, did she want the gig. A few hours’ babysitting would show her what she’d be in for soon, let her experience what it would feel like to be a mama, to cradle a baby in her arms, to protect the little one in her care.

  “I’ll babysit with Ginger,” James said. “My experience is more starting at the teen years, but I’ve held plenty of babies and I’m sure, between us, we can handle anything that will happen in the three hours you’re gone.”

  Ginger silenced the gasp that bubbled up in her throat. He clearly knew how much she wanted to do this, and he was making it happen for her.

  Because he had feelings for her whether he wanted them or not. Whether he was leaving or not. Whether she was a package deal for life or not. And whether or not her priorities and his were opposites.

  Or maybe he was just “good people.” Doing her a favor, doing his neighbors a favor.

  Except he’d kissed her back. Mix caring about her with kissing her? That equaled falling for her.

  Suddenly her mind raced to the idea of playing house with James, of showing him how cozy and sweet a life with her and Bluebell could be. Maybe he’d even change his tune.

  “You two are saints!” Dom said before his wife could utter a word. “Thank you.”

  Angela looked at her husband, then back at Ginger and James. “A million thanks!” she added.

  Could this day go any better? Ginger wondered as they made arrangements to turn up at the Maselos’ house at 5:00 p.m.

  “That sure was nice of you,” Ginger said to James as the couple headed toward their house with the stroller.

  “They seemed really desperate and they’re nice people. Plus, you really seemed to want to babysit, so...”

  Yeah, yeah, she thought with a smile. You know you want me. “Well, thanks. I imagine taking care of a baby for a few hours is not how you planned to spend your Friday night.”

  “Babysitting is no trouble. You get to hand the baby back and leave after all, right?”

  She must have looked as dejected as she felt because his expression turned instantly contrite.

  “I mean, you won’t, when Bluebell is born,” he sputtered. “Of course. I just meant that I—”

  So much for changing his tune. “It’s okay, James. I’ve got babies on the brain, and you’ve got open skies and blue waters on the brain. I get it.”

  He nodded, relief lighting his features.

  Then again, since he did like her “that way”—and she knew he did—maybe playing house tonight would start some sort of change in his mind. Two people falling for each other, spending the night taking care of a sweet baby, making out on the sofa while half-heartedly watching a rom-com? It was entirely possible he’d see how nice such an evening could be—many of them in a row. For the next eighteen years. For forever.

  Wishful thinking? Perhaps. But sometimes people thought they felt one way only to discover they wanted something else entirely. So let’s show James Gallagher the way a cozy night at home with his wife and baby would be.

  Oh, so now she had them married? Ginger was so happy she almost whooped out loud.

  Chapter Nine

  “Why won’t she stop crying?” Ginger asked, wanting to cry herself. She tried shifting Gia so that she was more upright. But the baby cried harder, her tiny face angry and getting red.

  She’d been babysitting all of twenty minutes, her “backup,” James, watching a baseball game on the Maselos’ huge-screen TV. She could tell that he was trying to let her handle things and not jump up to help. At first, she appreciated that, sure that she’d get the baby soothed and settled. But all the tips she’d studied online weren’t working.

  This was not going according to plan. James was supposed to be lounging on the sofa, enjoying the game, sipping a beer, digging into the Chinese food they’d ordered. Instead, Ginger was a disaster as a sitter, the baby’s screeches were drowning out the play-by-play, and their chicken lo mein and beef in garlic sauce were getting cold fast.

  “Let me take her,” James said, getting up. “Eat a little something,” he added, gesturing at the containers and their plates on the coffee table.

  “No, I’ve got this. You eat, really. Watch the game. I’m fine.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she hurried from the room so James wouldn’t see the sheen forming. She headed through the sliding glass doors to the patio outside, and the baby stopped crying.

  Miracle! Ginger wanted to shout, lifting t
he baby up high in the air with a grin on her face. “You little trickster, you just wanted some fresh air! Why didn’t you say so? You almost had me thinking I’m gonna be bad at this motherhood thing.”

  The baby began fussing in Ginger’s arms again. Her face began to crumple. The red tinge appeared on her impossibly big cheeks. Then the first waah split the quiet of the yard until Gia let out a bloodcurdling shriek followed by a steady stream of tears.

  Oh God. What was wrong? She’d fed Gia about five minutes after arriving, the baby giving a very satisfying burp. So she wasn’t hungry or gassy. Her diaper was dry; Ginger had changed her soon after she ate. And how she’d loved all that—settling herself in the glider with the baby in one arm, the bottle in the other, a burp cloth with cartoon giraffes on it at the ready. She’d felt so capable, so ready, her heart so bursting with pure joy.

  And then the crying started and wouldn’t stop. Hadn’t Angela and Dom said that Gia was a very easy baby?

  “Do you want to go into your crib? Maybe you’re tired?” she asked.

  “Waaaah!”

  She headed back inside. “I think she might be tired.”

  “Didn’t the Maselos say she’d be ready for bed at seven fifteen?”

  An hour to go. So it was Ginger. Ginger was the problem.

  “Ging, go eat,” James said. “Let me try. Maybe she just needs a fresh body holding her. We’re not her parents and she knows it.”

  Accepting defeat, Ginger carefully handled Gia to James. He cradled her upright against his chest, rubbing the baby’s back.

  And she stopped crying.

  Ginger frowned—despite her ears being grateful—and stepped closer to James, who was rocking Gia as he shifted slowly from side to side. The baby was looking up at him, her brown eyes curious and happy. James made funny faces at her, and Gia laughed—a big hearty laugh that Ginger didn’t even know babies were capable of making.

  “Time for a story?” James asked, sitting down on the glider, the baby cradled against him. “Once upon a time, there was a really cute cat named Fluffers. And one day, Fluffers was so bored that he decided to ask the neighborhood dog, Bingo, if he wanted to play. Well, Fluffers marched right up to Bingo but Bingo started barking like crazy and—”