by Leslie North
“Well, that’s good.” Brian turned, intending to breeze to his seat, but the raw look on Connie’s face stole the air from his lungs. She was giving him a look that any man should be so lucky to receive at least once in his life. Like she adored him. Like she could have climbed onto his lap and stayed there forever.
It didn’t last long though. She hardened up, shifted her gaze away. “You aren’t coming to every single one, though, right?”
It was hard to read her. To figure out if that’s what she wanted. Or maybe she was just being polite. “I hadn’t planned on it. I’d have to clear my schedule if…”
“No, no. It’s fine.” She waved him off. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t gonna be here when they stick that thing between my legs and take their samples or whatever.”
“Samples?” Brian stepped closer, lifting a brow. “Maybe I should attend. Is that standard protocol?”
She giggled, swatting him away. This felt a lot like flirting. But in the most unlikely of places. Before she could respond, the doorknob turned, and her eyes went wide. She shushed him. “It’s the doctor. Go sit down.”
Brian sat, fighting a grin. This pregnancy might be more fun than he bargained for. As long as Connie was involved, he could bet on it.
7
Connie took a deep breath, resting her hands on her knees, the tip of her black braid dangling over her shoulder. It was barely noon, which meant she’d barely been working for two hours.
But every part of her was tired. Excessively tired. She’d been noticing this more and more recently—like any simple act of living drained her energy levels to zero. Sometimes even brushing her teeth at night was too much. She’d been falling asleep every night around eight thirty, which was freakishly early for the night owl that she normally was.
Her phone buzzed on the night stand in the extra bedroom of her apartment. She’d been attempting to get the baby’s room ready, which meant new furniture, lots of instruction booklets, and cans of paint. She had barely started—but already felt exhausted enough to sleep away the entire rest of the day. If this was the end of month three of her pregnancy, she couldn’t imagine what the rest of them would be like.
She hauled herself over to the phone. It was a text from Brian. He’d taken to checking in on her every day. She looked forward to them, too—more than she cared to admit to herself.
“Everything okay there?”
She sighed, tapping out a quick response. “Trying to get the baby’s room arranged. Lots to do. Extremely tired.”
Brian’s response was so fast she almost thought he’d had it pre-entered into his phone. “Let me send help. A handyman. Interior decorator. What are you trying to do? I’ll call now.”
She smiled at the text, despite how frustrating it was. She loved that he wanted to help. But his way of helping wasn’t on her level.
“No handyman. No decorator. This shit has to be done by me,” she typed.
There was a long enough pause on Brian’s end for her to set the phone down, sure that he wasn’t responding. Then her phone dinged again.
“Oh come on. You’re pregnant. I’m paying.”
She shook her head, even though he wasn’t there to see it. He didn’t get it. Too much money, maybe. Or perhaps he’d just been raised to outsource everything. Either way, it didn’t feel right to have a decorator come in and take away her personal touches on the room. A handyman made slightly more sense, but even so, Connie wanted to touch and be part of every item and object that her baby would interact with. It just felt proper.
“Don’t send them,” Connie said. “Or if you do, tell them to go find the doula.”
She tossed her phone aside then, intent on not engaging more. She needed to focus and not waste her precious energy on this conversation. If she allowed it, she’d waste all her precious energy on Brian. He was just so easy to be around, to talk to. Even when they’d argued at the OB’s office, it had flowed better than fighting with her exes. There was something about the guy that just felt right.
As different as they were, he fit in her life, as if he was meant to be there.
The brief thought of their steamy night at his place burned through her. Best not to think about that, since it was never going to happen ever again. She scowled, kicking at the can of slate-gray paint. Gender neutral all the way for this little one. Something she was fairly sure Brian’s Felicia wouldn’t approve of.
Something about that woman irked her, but it was hard to articulate. She wanted to say something to Brian, but what would that even be? Hey, I think your girlfriend is kinda lame. Probably he liked lame women. Except for the one night he’d liked Connie.
She groaned, grabbing for the paint roller. It was time to prime these walls. And she didn’t even care if she never got her security deposit back. The walls were going gray.
Connie worked for almost an hour before the knock on the door sounded. She froze, confusion spiking, followed by realization. It had to be one of Brian’s missionaries sent to convert her decoration scheme. She sighed, setting her roller in the pan, and trudged toward the front door.
She pulled open the door, ready to tell the visitor to screw off.
But Brian’s tall, boxy frame filled her doorway instead. He looked terribly pleased with himself, that Prince Harry-esque formal suit perfectly tailored to him.
“Oh.” All she could do was stare. “I thought you were going to be the decorator.”
He deflated. “I thought you told me not to call her.”
“No. No no no.” She stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. “I don’t want the decorator. I just…” Words evaporated. It was hard to think with him so close. The bite of his cologne reached her, sending her wobbling. “I thought you wouldn’t listen, ya know? You’re lucky I didn’t open up with a baseball bat in my hands.”
“Is that how you were planning to scare off the interior decorator?” He smirked as he checked out her apartment. It was his first time here, and suddenly she was cripplingly aware of how plain and small it was compared to his penthouse.
“I’ve done worse,” she said, shutting the front door. She swept her arm around the small living room, which led into the small kitchen. “Welcome to my humble abode. It’s no penthouse.”
“I like it,” Brian remarked, strolling toward the far wall of the living room. He paused in front of a series of pictures. “Is this your family?”
“Yep. All nine hundred and eight of them,” she cracked, coming over to inspect the same pictures. “Family reunion, last year.”
“You have that many siblings?”
“Six,” she said. “Growing up was fun but now, we’re spread all over the place.” A moment of silence passed as he inspected the photos, and then she asked, “What about you?”
“It’s odd. All of your brothers and sisters look exactly like mine.”
She blinked, furrowing a brow. “What…”
A grin covered his face. “I’m kidding.”
“Ha!” She nudged him with an elbow. “You made a joke. Good. Very good.” She jerked her head toward the bedroom, inviting him to come along.
“I have a brother and a sister,” Brian said, pausing in the hallway. “I’m the eldest.”
“No wonder you own a billion-dollar company then,” she cracked.
“Not yet.” He held up a finger. “But soon.”
She’d been only half joking, but she could sense the intensity behind those words. She brought him to the baby’s room and gestured at the half-finished bedroom walls. “Well, here we are. Ta da! Baby room.”
“It’s nice,” he said. “I like the color.”
“Do you?” She smiled back at him. “Well, good. Me too. That’s why I picked it. I mean, obviously.”
“This would go so much faster if we hired someone.”
She fixed a narrowed gaze on him, but he didn’t quiver as she’d hoped he would.
“I’m doing this stuff myself. This is important work. You can help if yo
u want. But help means picking up a paint brush. It doesn’t mean outsourcing it to Freddy, Bob, and Doula.”
Brian snorted with a laugh again. “You are so strange.”
“Thank you.” She sent him an exaggerated smile. “Though you probably didn’t mean that as a compliment.”
“No,” he said, unbuttoning his suit jacket before tossing it over the nightstand. “I did.”
Something warm and sweet passed between them, and Connie passed him a paint roller. “Well here, then. Get to work, and don’t get your pretty clothes dirty.”
The two of them set to work as easily and effortlessly as though they’d been painting rooms together their entire lives. Laughter and conversation flowed. Part of Connie wished that Brian could hang around here with her every day. It was fun getting to know him. To see the human side of that stiff, corporate ruler.
Over an hour had passed before Brian stopped to check his phone. When he did, he swore.
“What is it?” Connie asked.
“I’m not…” He paused, eyes riveted on the screen. With his free hand, he grabbed at the front of his hair, making it stick up. “Fuck.”
“Uh oh.” Connie tapped off her paint brush. “This doesn’t sound good.”
Brian frowned, swiping his phone off. He pocketed it before going on. “Felicia is at the office with an investor.”
“Okay…” Connie said.
“Surprise visit.” He sighed. “And I’m not there. My receptionist told them I was here.”
Connie shrugged, slowly coming to her feet. “That doesn’t sound like it’s so tragic.”
“I’m always at the office. I needed to be there to meet this investor.” He swore under his breath. “Now it looks like I just take off whenever I want. And to come visit a friend’s house on my break...”
She frowned, pushing the lid back onto the paint can. “Well, run back to the office and tell them you’re sorry.”
“It’s not that easy, Connie.” Brian sighed, grabbing for his jacket. He worked his jaw back and forth as he pulled the coat on.
“Well,” she said quietly, “guess I don’t understand because I don’t have a billion-dollar company.”
Brian paused, deflating a little. “Don’t be like that. That’s not what I mean.” He paused, looking down at his clothes. “Fuck. I got paint on my shirt. And it’s not worth a billion yet. I already told you that.”
She peered up at him. “Are you joking again?”
A smile ghosted across his face. “I have to go. Text me later, okay?”
He held her gaze for what felt like just a few seconds too long before letting himself out of the room. When the front door clicked shut, she relaxed, nearly leaning back against the freshly painted wall. Brian was fun to be around, as long as he could allow himself to have fun. She could sense the rigid work ethic in him. It ruled his life, really.
She scoffed to herself as she puttered around the apartment that afternoon. Brian was a nice, albeit sexy, guy, but he wasn’t the guy for her. He was with Felicia, for starters. And furthermore, he was too into his job. She could never be with someone who was that obsessed with money.
Someone who would rather hire a handyman for his child’s bedroom.
Connie settled into her favorite arm chair in the living room, mind wandering as she relaxed. Brian was the type of guy who gravitated toward outsourcing. A guy who had to be forced to prioritize simple tasks like lovingly painting a bedroom. And if that didn’t reek of incompatibility, she didn’t know what did.
She scoured her brain for anything else that might convince her he was wrong for her. Just so she could hang onto it.
For the rest of this pregnancy, she was gonna need it.
8
Brian leaned forward toward the coffee table, the tumbler of whiskey between his palms. He’d invited his sister over for some after-dinner advice. Which sounded like something Connie might say. That realization both irritated and delighted him.
Connie was almost four months pregnant, and he felt like he was going nuts.
“I dunno, sis,” Brian whispered, staring at the leather seam of the ottoman nearby. “She just doesn’t want to do things the way that make sense to me. I thought she’d be into all the new-age stuff. Dark room. Hand holding. Whatever.”
Brian’s sister Meghan laughed, dismissing his words with her hand. “That’s not for everyone. Trust me, I saw some pretty crazy stuff while doing rounds.”
“Well, this is what I need from you,” Brian said, reaching for his papers. He and Felicia had agreed that Connie signing formal documentation regarding the birth plan and custodial arrangement would be the best move. Connie was slated to stop over that evening to sign, but Brian needed his sister’s opinion first. “Does the birth plan look good to you?”
Meghan took a few moments to look over the paperwork. She shrugged, handing the papers back to him. “Yeah. It’s solid. And this is what Connie wants?”
Brian nodded.
“Then you’re good to go.” Meghan paused, searching Brian’s face. “But are you sure you don’t want to be a part of this kid’s life?”
Brian looked away. His sister was the only brunette in the family, but her fair skin and freckles were all O’Leary. She, more than anyone in the family, could cut to his core.
“It’s for the best if I’m not,” he said. But the words felt rehearsed.
“Why?”
Brian slowly clenched and unclenched a fist, practicing the words in his head before he said them. “Felicia and I have something important going. And it’s best for us if it’s not disrupted.”
Meghan was quiet for so long he turned to look at her. Her pink lips were tugged down in a frown.
“I’m a pediatrician. You know that, right?”
Brian scoffed. “Of course. I paid for your schooling.”
“I love kids.” Meghan leaned forward, the wine in her glass sloshing slightly. “And even if you don’t love kids like I do, you will love this kid.”
Brian swatted her away. “Come on. It’ll be hard at first, but…”
“But nothing. You’re going to break apart once you realize you’re never seeing your own flesh and blood. That you’re not going to be a part of his or her life.” Meghan sighed tersely, settling back into her position on the couch. She took a sip of wine. “I see parents with their kids every day. You might think you’re some big shot hard ass, but you’ll cry like a baby once that kid is born.”
“I’m not even going to be in the delivery room,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter.” Meghan downed her wine. “You’ll cry.”
He rolled his eyes, but away from her, so she couldn’t see. “So what’s the solution?”
“Dump the girl who won’t let you recognize your own child.”
Brian sighed, setting his tumbler down on the coffee table. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not! I just had this one glass.” She craned her neck to look for the bottle. “It’s a good cab. You always have the best wine.”
“I’m not breaking up with Felicia,” Brian said tersely. He stood, irritated by the suggestion. Meghan didn’t understand why this was important. What was riding on their union. He’d already lost his chance at making the billion-dollar mark once—because of Connie, no less. He wasn’t going to let it slip through his fingers again.
“When am I gonna meet this Felicia woman anyway?” Meghan asked. “She seems…spicy.”
“Soon.” Brian stood to refill their glasses, but a knock sounded on the door.
Meghan released a low “Oooh.”
“Is this girlfriend number one or girlfriend number two?” she teased.
“Stop. It’s Connie.” He abandoned their glasses on his inlaid wood wet bar and jerked his chin toward the door. “Get out of here. She and I have some business to attend to.”
“Like, between the sheets, or…”
Brian fought a smile. “We already did that. That’s how we got into this situation in the first
place, remember?”
“Well, don’t forget—you know a pediatrician. And I’ll give you the family discount.” Meghan winked dramatically, slinking over to where she’d left her scarf and purse. “Once you decide to bring this kid around to family Christmases and whatnot.”
Brian shooed her toward the front. Just as another knock sounded, Meghan whipped the door open.
“Hello!” Meghan sent Connie a big grin. Connie looked confused, hand still fisted in the air from knocking, those big, watery blue eyes darting between Meghan and Brian.
“This is my sister,” Brian blurted. “She’s leaving.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Meghan paused, scraping her bottom teeth over her top lip as her gaze fell to Connie’s belly. “Have you felt any movement yet?”
Connie’s mouth opened slightly. Brian rubbed at his forehead.
“She knows,” he said, though it wasn’t needed.
“Um, not really?” Connie squeaked.
“I’m a pediatrician,” Meghan began, “and I just—”
“Bye, Meghan,” Brian blurted, giving his sister a friendly shove. Connie watched with wide eyes as Meghan laughed, stumbling forward toward the elevator.
“Sibling rivalry stuff,” she said, pointing between her and Brian. “Never goes away, no matter how old you get.”
“Oh, trust me,” Connie said. “I know all about that.”
“Maybe you guys will have a second?” Meghan asked, as the elevator doors opened.
Brian huffed, ushering Connie inside. “Good bye, Meghan.” He shut the door before she could shout anything else embarrassing.
Connie looked amused as she came into the penthouse, shedding her light jacket and handbag. “She seems fun.”
“Barrels of it.” Brian shook his head, heading toward the couch. “Can I get you anything? Water…juice…”
“How about a foot massage?” Connie cracked, her hands going to her belly. And that’s when he noticed—she was actually showing. It was a small bump, but it was there. He couldn’t rip his eyes away.
“Holy shit.”