by Holly Kerr
I’m fine on my own.
And then Dean comes in.
“Another one in a good mood,” I call to him from behind the counter.
“You saw Flora?” Dean asks eagerly.
I can’t help but smile at his reaction. “How could I miss her? She was glowing.”
“Yeah.” He runs his hand through his hair, his face contorting like he’s trying to dim the sunshine of his smile. “How are you this morning?”
I can’t help it. “Not as good as you.”
“What happened?” Dean asks in a gentle voice.
I hold on to my smile that’s probably more like a grimace. “Nothing that a little time and distance can’t handle because that’s obviously what he wants.”
He groans. “Clay messed it up?”
My smile breaks at the sound of his name. “I don’t know what happened. Things were so good, and I thought maybe I’d have a chance this time, but over the weekend, he just wasn’t there. I haven’t talked to him.” A tear escapes to trickle down my cheek.
“Has he said anything?” Dean demands. “Maybe something happened.”
“He hasn’t said anything. That’s the problem. He’d been so open, telling me everything. We’ve talked about his past, his parents. There are no secrets between us. At least there wasn’t, but now this. I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t do anything,” he says automatically.
“But what if he’s getting cold feet. He asked me to move in.”
Dean leans forward over the counter. “Honestly? If he is getting cold feet, there’s nothing you can do about it. He doesn’t do well with clingy women. Not that you are.” He raises his hand to still my quick protest. “But just give him a little space. He loves you. I can tell that, even if he didn’t already tell me. Everything will be fine.”
“He told you?” Hope swells inside me, kept in check by the worry.
“He can’t stop talking about it. It’s annoying, actually. But sweet. I’ve never seen him act like this before.”
“So how do you know it’ll be okay?”
“Because it has to be,” he says simply. “When I see the two of you together, I can’t see any reason that you can’t make it work. Clay knows this. Maybe he’s just scared of what this means.”
“What does it mean?”
“That he’s looking at forever with you, and that’s an awesome, but kind of scary thought.”
Clay
Sunday night Theo wakes up crying and nothing I can do will make him stop.
He finally cries himself to sleep around four a.m., and I fall back asleep soon after, around the same time M.K. would be waking up.
Of course I sleep through the alarm.
It’s eight thirty before I wake up, a half hour after the time I’d arranged to drop Theo off at the babysitters. Because yesterday had been so exhausting, I make the snap decision to work from home today and call the babysitter to tell her Theo won’t be there.
After Abby left yesterday, I eventually ventured out with Theo snug in his car seat. I discovered that sports cars aren’t the best for transporting babies, and that diapers and formula are expensive.
I also discovered Theo loves people.
He smiles. He waves. He gurgles whenever the attention is on him.
“What a cutie!” the third woman cried as we entered Loblaws and that was before we had even got our cart.
Shopping with a baby was an experience, but I took it slow and we managed. I’d never been approached by so many women in one day.
“You’re lady bait,” I whispered to him as he smiled toothlessly at another woman. “If I was looking for a lady.”
I feel horrible for not talking to M.K. yesterday, but every time I picked up the phone, I realized it was a bad time for her to talk, or Theo needed me.
And now it’s Monday, and I still haven’t explained.
I’ve just gotten Theo settled for his morning nap when I hear Dean’s key in the door. “Shh,” I greet him with a whisper, finger to my lips.
Dean’s confusion is obvious as he drops his keys on the hall table. “Who’s here? And why are you here?”
I scrub at my hair, already mussed from the baby grabbing it and making the same gesture of frustration I’ve done countless times today. “Long story.”
Dean’s gaze hits the car seat, the pile of baby blankets I’ve yet to find a home for, and finally the empty bottle in my hand. “I think you better start talking.”
“I’ve got to tell M.K. about this, so can you wait for her?” I head to the kitchen to rinse out the bottle. How am I supposed to tell M.K.?
“About M.K.” My head swivels around at her name. “Why haven’t you talked to her this weekend?”
I wave a hand towards the bottles drying on the rack. “I haven’t figured out how to explain this.”
“Try with me because it looks like there’s a baby here and I’m not sure why. Or how. Or whose?”
“Mine,” I say heavily. Dean’s eyes widen.
“Since when?”
“Since Abby Benjamin dropped him off Saturday. And before that, about four months ago.”
“Did you know she was going to be dropping a baby off? Your baby? How’s that possible?”
I raise an eyebrow. “If you haven’t figured that out yet…” I lean against the counter, my shoulders sagging with exhaustion. I’ve never felt quite this tired before. “You remember Abby—the dancer.”
“I could say, which dancer, but I’m guessing now’s not really the time. Tall, dark hair. Dancerlike. Got it.”
“Well, after we split up—not that we were ever really together—she found out she was pregnant. It was mine,” I add, to offset the next logical question.
Theo is mine. Every time I look at him, I see more of me in his face, his smile. It might be wishful thinking, but he definitely looks like me.
“Ohh—kay,” Dean says slowly. “She had a baby and never told you?”
I shake my head. “I heard from her about nine weeks ago, the same day M.K. got a hold of me, so I never texted her back.”
“How did you find out? Did she just show up?”
I laugh without humour. “Flora hired a friend of hers to work in the shop. Or Imogene did. The Heather that is now working at Fleur is a friend of Abby’s. Oh, and I went out with Heather too.”
“She’s not pregnant, too, is she?” I give him a disgusted look. “Okay, so she’s not pregnant.”
“When I was in Fleur on Friday,” I continue, “Heather sprung the whole I know about your baby thing on me.”
“Nice of her.”
“I needed to know.”
“I’m not saying you didn’t, but Abby should have been the one to tell you.”
“I agree.”
“That wasn’t a very long story. So, are you babysitting for her? You missed work because of a baby?”
I heave a sigh. “That’s where it gets complicated. She’s leaving on a year-long tour on Friday. I’m taking Theo.”
Dean’s face is still except for the blinking of his eyes. “I think you better tell M.K. about this,” he finally says.
Chapter Sixteen
M.K.
It’s the longest afternoon, with every customer taking their own sweet time ordering, lingering at the tables. A group of new mothers, around two in the afternoon, is the worst. They’ve been coming in for the last few months, three of them with strollers and sleeping babies: friends who take time for themselves while the babies sleep.
It’s something I could see Flora and me doing if I ever planned on having a baby.
Not that it’s a hard no, but it’s a hard not anytime soon. I’ve listened to my mother plan her grandchildren for years and the relationship I have with my mother makes me reluctant to give her that satisfaction of getting one from me.
I’ve had a flurry of texts from my other sisters about Clay today, so I’m not inclined to do anything for her. I can only guess what she’s said about “Clayton.
”
They are actually calling him Clayton, with Molly giving me a snarky sidenote:
Why are you with a man named Clayton?
He sounds old.
“His name is Clay, and I really hope he can explain where he’s been all weekend before I freak out,” I mutter as I’m wiping the counter at the end of the day.
“Pardon me?” Reuben asks. Normally, I don’t let anyone work longer than six hours, but somehow Reuben got a full open-to-close shift. I’m embarrassed at how my careful planning let me make such a mistake, but Reuben only waves off my apologies and stays the day, despite my assurances that I can finish on my own.
“I was talking to myself and I got loud,” I explain, my cheek growing hot.
“Do that often, do you?” he asks with the hint of a grin. “Talkin’ to yourself, I mean?”
“More than anyone realizes,” I admit.
“I find it’s best to say it out loud than let the thoughts fester in your head,” he says, cleaning out the frother with a loud hiss.
“Is this your way of suggesting I talk to you?”
“No need to talk to me. You’ve got good friends who will listen—the FlowerFlora, the red-haired bloke that was here earlier. You don’t need my ear.”
Dean did help, and Flora would listen but I’m sure she’s got more of her own happy news that she’s bursting to tell me, and I need to get into my great listener-BBF mode before that happens.
“I am the only one here, though,” Reuben adds.
“Family issues,” I say shortly. “My mother, actually.”
“Ah, mothers. The world’s best creation and yet can cause the biggest problems.”
I allow a smile. “That’s about right.”
“And what did your mam do this time?”
“Nothing.” I heave a sigh. “And everything. She’s always been so consumed with my sisters and me finding a husband. It’s so old-fashioned—”
“So Pride and Prejudice.”
“Exactly!” Some of my foul mood lifts and I beam at him. “I’ve always thought of her like Mrs. Bennett.”
“There’s a woman who would try the patience of a saint.”
“Yes! And I’m no saint.”
“I take it she’s trying to hurry things along with you and your man, since there’s no matchmaking involved. Or is he not good enough for the likes of you, in her eyes?”
“She’s never met him, but now she and all my sisters are trying to guilt me into bringing him down to meet them. This is why I never told them about him because I knew I wouldn’t hear the end of it. They can’t even get his name right.”
“What are they calling him?”
“Clayton.”
“Is that his name?”
“Well, yes, but he prefers Clay.”
“Then I’m sure he’ll be quick to tell them that when he meets them. Don’t be too fussed about a name. Pick your battles, my mam always says.”
“My mam always says I’m in need of a husband.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No. I don’t need anyone.”
“I don’t agree with that, but I do agree that a husband isn’t a requirement for you. If that’s what you want, sure, but don’t let your mam’s preference ruin your day.”
“Or my life,” I mutter.
“Has it now?”
“I guess not,” I admit. “But it makes it difficult.”
“The mother-daughter relationship is one of the most complicated and complex relationships there is.”
I narrow my eyes at Reuben. His size and somber demeanor had intimidated me when he came in for the interview but vanished once I saw him around the coffeemaker. And watching him with Adam and the customers made me realize how lucky I am to find him.
Talking to him makes me think he’s a godsend.
“How do you know all this?” I ask. “Are you a closet psychologist or something?”
“You know as well as I do that I don’t have much book learning. But being on that cruise ship helped me see there’s all types in this world. And me mam’s a bit of a complicated sort herself, so I know where you’re coming from.” He smiles, his dark eyes warm. “Go talk to your man. That’ll help.”
“If I ever talk to him again,” I mutter under my breath. But when the cleanup is finished, I check my phone to find a text from Clay.
I’m so sorry!!! Please come over after you’re
finished and I’ll explain everything. I have so much to tell you.
He signs it with xo.
Clay
I’ve never known the meaning of waiting with bated breath until that afternoon. Every noise in the condo has me on edge as I wait for M.K. Theo is as content as ever, so at least he doesn’t pick up on my nerves.
What will she say when I introduce her to my son?
In the weeks we’ve been dating, M.K. and I have never had The Conversation, the one about marriage. Or the one about children. There had never been a good time to bring it up, plus I’ve spent the past years dodging those exact questions, so I’m unsure of the etiquette. If I ask M.K. about her thoughts about marriage and babies, does that mean I’m thinking of it?
Do I want a future with her?
Honestly, the present has been so good that I haven’t given it much thought. Now as I watch Theo sleep in his playpen, I realize my future has changed. Flipped upside down and backwards.
The baby stirs in his sleep, his face scrunching up like he’s deep in thought. Or more likely he’s pooping.
I already know his pooping face. I’ve cottoned on to the difference between his I’m hungry cry and his I need to sleep wail.
Even after only forty-eight hours with him, I know my heart will break without him. This is a new kind of love, one that I never imagined.
I wait for the telltale odor from Theo as M.K. knocks.
“Hi,” I say in a hushed voice as I open the door. Even though she came straight from the patisserie with the scent of chocolate and coffee clinging to her, she looks amazing in her swinging, blue dress, her slim legs bare despite the cool day. I pull her to me, loving the feel of her in my arms.
“What’s wrong?” she asks against my shoulder.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I stroke her back, my hand snaking up under her dark bob. “Just changed a bit.”
“What’s changed?” M.K. pulls away, her face a mask of concern. Twining my fingers with hers, I tug her inside.
“Come see.”
M.K. is silent, but I know she’s taking in the car seat against the wall, the stack of baby blankets on the coffee table as Dean had done earlier. I lead her into my bedroom where I’ve set up the playpen.
“This is Theo,” I say, unable to keep the pride from my voice.
When I met M.K. and Flora, I remember thinking that for best friends, the two couldn’t be more different. M.K. is quiet and reserved, while Flora is outspoken and outgoing. She’s a good match for Dean.
If Flora was faced with Dean’s surprise baby, she wouldn’t have been able to stop talking. But M.K. is taking her time, and making me sweat it.
“That’s your baby,” she finally says in a quiet voice.
“It is.”
“Why am I only meeting him now? Or even hearing about him?” Her voice is so very quiet, and a prickle of fear runs up my spine.
“I only met him this weekend myself.”
“How is that possible?” She stares at the sleeping baby with an expression on her face that I can’t read.
I give her the quick version of Abby’s visit, but when she doesn’t respond, I give her the rest, the part I was going to tell her slowly.
“She’s giving you her baby?”
“He’s my baby, too.”
“Yes, but she’s the mother. How can she give up her child like that?” Her voice is like ice, and even though I’m annoyed with Abby, I bristle at her implications.
“Abby has her reasons.”
“There’s no good reason for a parent
walking away from their child.”
Just in time I remember that M.K.’s father walked away from his family. “Abby isn’t walking away. Not forever. Theo wasn’t planned and she’s made the best of it. She has an opportunity now, and I’m helping take care of Theo. He’s my responsibility, too.”
“One that you never knew about.”
“Again, she had her reasons for not telling me.”
“And you’re not upset about this?” M.K. suddenly bursts. “This is big, Clay. It’s not like she lied about going out with her friends when she was supposed to be with her grandma—she had your baby and never told you.”
“I know.”
“Aren’t you upset about it?”
I stare at Theo. “I haven’t had a chance to really think about it. To process it.”
“Don’t you think you should?”
I gesture to my son. “He’s more important right now.”
“So you’re taking him? This is how it’s going to be? That you suddenly have a son?”
I turn at the anger in her voice. “I know it’s sudden, M.K., but I don’t want to upset you. This won’t change anything between us.”
“How can it not? You have a child—a child with another woman.”
“Who is no longer in my life. Abby wasn’t really in my life anyway.”
“She was in your life enough to have your child,” she said grimly.
“She was, but that’s over.”
M.K. gives a humourless snort. “This isn’t because I’m jealous. Or insecure of some woman I’ve never even heard of.”
“I told you about her,” I say reluctantly. “The semi-serious one.”
“And that’s supposed to help?”
I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know what to say that will help. And I want to. I know this is big—I know that I’m springing it on you.”
M.K. is quiet for a long moment. As if interrupted by the silence, Theo stirs with a frustrated cry. I rest my hand on his stomach as his hands fist and flail. “It’s okay,” I soothe as his eyes open fully. “I’m here.”