A Baby Affair

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “I have a question I’ve been wanting to ask you, but don’t want to open any doors,” she said as the silence settled around them on their bench for two, which was just a few painted two-by-fours nailed to four wooden legs. She settled against the wall behind them and as she leaned back her T-shirt settled around the small bulge in her belly.

  That little lump hit him hard enough to knock the air out of him. Just as she was wanting to keep doors closed.

  He wanted to reassure her that he would comply with her request, but couldn’t speak for a second so he nodded. He’d do whatever she needed. He knew that.

  Didn’t mean it would be easy.

  Or pleasant.

  “Why did you want to know the sex of the baby?”

  Hmmph. She was killing him. Slowly. Because he’d begged her to let him be a presence in her life. He was right where he wanted to be.

  “Honestly?” The words came because the question had an answer. And because he wouldn’t let himself wonder why she was asking it. “So that when I’m in town, years from now, and see a boy that reminds me of my father, or pictures I’ve seen of myself, I won’t wonder if he’s mine if I know the child is a girl. Or vice versa, if I see a girl that looks like pictures I’ve seen of my mother...”

  Turning her head along the wall, she glanced at him right as he was looking at her. Their gazes locked as she studied him and he wished he knew what she was thinking. Wished it hard.

  “I know I’m going to wonder,” he added softly. “At least if I know the sex of the child, I’ll only wonder for the half the population.”

  There. The whole truth. She’d asked.

  And looked away at that last response.

  He had no know idea what she’d been seeking.

  “I’m afraid to know.” A new tone had entered her voice. Was it uncertainty?

  “Why?” He was truly curious.

  Her shrug, and glance in his direction, made him want to take her in his arms and hold her tenderly. For as long as either of them needed the contact.

  “I can’t figure it out,” she told him. “Angie thinks it’s because I’m afraid I’ll be disappointed. You know, if I really want a boy and it’s a girl. Or vice versa.” She kind of mocked the way he’d said that same thing a moment before, and accompanied the words with a self-deprecating grin and a shake of her head.

  “I know it’s not that. I will be happy either way. I ask myself what I truly want, deep down, and all I ever come up with is a healthy baby. So I think I’m, you know, parroting in my brain what I know should be the best answer, but I just keep coming back to it. I really just want a healthy baby.”

  She leaned her head against the wall again, staring slightly upward.

  He couldn’t help another long glance at that small protrusion of her T-shirt. Was it sick for a guy to get turned on by the sight of a woman carrying his child?

  He’d never seen Tricia pregnant. Hadn’t known Gavin as a newborn.

  He’d loved him as though he’d been his own, though, but nothing about his previous life had prepared him for the current one.

  Nothing in his medical background told him it was wrong to find his personal involvement with pregnancy sexy. To the contrary. If a patient had come to him, asking the same question, he’d have said he thought it was probably natural.

  “My whole life, as long as I can remember, this is what I’ve wanted most,” she told him. “A baby of my own. A child to raise, innocent laughter in my home. Questions. Exploring the world through eyes that don’t know it all yet. Watching the way the freedom to challenge what you don’t understand plays itself out. Even the certainty and know-it-all-ness of the teen years. And the middle-of-the-night feedings. I can’t wait for those nights when I’m so tired and have to pull myself out of bed, anyway. Because that’s love. Real love.”

  Craig suddenly knew, there in a shack that was getting chilly as they sat there in their sweat-dampened riding clothes, that exact moment was when he fell in love with the mother of his child.

  * * *

  Craig’s silence made Amelia uncomfortable. She’d said too much. Got too comfortable with him. She’d actually forgotten for a few minutes that, per the boundaries they set, per all agreements, he could only be the biological donor to the dream she’d been sharing with him.

  She’d really just wanted to know why he’d wanted to know the sex of their child. And she was trying to understand the fight going on inside her and wasn’t ready to seek counseling about it yet. Didn’t really think it warranted that. It was just bugging the hell out of her. She’d look at the phone, think about calling to find out the baby’s sex, get all tense then feel relieved when she let herself off the hook.

  “So how does knowing the sex of the baby in your lifelong plan change anything?” Craig asked, as though finishing her thought.

  She thought about the question. It was one she hadn’t asked herself. One Angie hadn’t even touched on. Maybe because it was irrelevant. How did knowing the sex change things?

  It didn’t really. Just... “It makes it more real,” she said. Which was a great thing—having her dreams coming to life. So that wouldn’t be the cause of the tension. Would it?

  As tension started to seep into her, she looked over at him, needing to know he was real, too. That he was there as a donor, but also as her friend.

  Needing to know how he seemed to know her so well. Or at least read her well.

  “I’m afraid to believe it’s going to happen.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if I believe and then something goes wrong...”

  She was scared to death to believe she was really going to have a family of her own. To believe that healthy love would live in her home.

  Because she was scared to death she couldn’t ever have that—a healthy, loving home. That such things were for other people. Not her.

  Their faces were so close, their mouths both open, as though either of them was ready to speak. Amelia had no thought, no plan, no warning before she leaned just enough to close that distance. Her lips touched his lightly. Tentatively. For a brief second he made it more than that, filling her body with an ache it had never known, and she jerked back.

  “The baby’s not viable yet,” she blurted loudly what she’d only been acknowledging to herself. Needing to pretend that she hadn’t just done what she had. Needing him to let it go, as though it hadn’t happened. They didn’t need this...couldn’t chance ruining what they were building for the baby by letting sexual attraction get involved. “I don’t want to believe...” She had to stop to catch her breath, to focus on what she was saying and not on him. “To name him, to fall in love, until I know the baby is viable.” That was it. And it made perfect sense.

  At least something did.

  “You think you haven’t already fallen in love?”

  He wasn’t smiling, but his expression was kind as he looked at her, and then at the hands she’d unconsciously placed on her stomach. He was letting her off the hook. Letting the kiss go.

  Amelia sat up as a surprising spurt of tears sprang to her eyes.

  Hormones. It was just hormones.

  Or he was right. She’d fallen in love with her baby before she’d said she could, in spite of herself—and maybe fallen a little bit in love with her baby’s father, too.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Craig knew something was wrong the second he saw Amelia’s face on Tuesday of that week. There was nothing overt, no frown or worry lines. She smiled, greeted him as usual, went immediately to the bike he had standing in the parking lot waiting for her. It was a lack of something that caught his attention. She seemed slightly vacant. Like she was wearing a facade to complete her day.

  He had had a hectic day with four patients calling in for emergency appointments, in addition to an already full schedule. He’d had to order extra blood work for
a man not much older than himself, a man who was married and had two little ones at home. He was hoping that the test was merely going to show them that nothing was wrong, but his gut was telling him differently. That young family might not have a lifetime together. It was one of the moments he wished he was anything but a doctor.

  And that day it carried another weight attached to it. He was feeling for a father who might not be around for his kids and for kids who might not get to have their father around...and in a sense, that was his own fate. And the fate of his child.

  They were riding in the neighborhood closest to Amelia’s condominium, as both of them had been pressed for time and had planned only a forty-five-minute spin. They’d made that decision on Sunday as they’d returned from their short stay at the facility shack. The dark clouds had dispersed within fifteen minutes and no rain had fallen—as predicted.

  Amelia had been different on the ride back, too, he reminded himself. Something he’d pondered probably more than necessary in the time since.

  All to no good resolution. She had such walls around her, and as much as he felt compelled to penetrate those walls, to care and be there for her and show her that the world offered unending possibility for happiness, he knew that his place in her life required that he not penetrate anything where she was concerned.

  The knowing didn’t stop him caring, unfortunately. Which wasn’t keeping him in the best of moods, either.

  And yet, there he was, ready to trek around a neighborhood with her, eager to, rather than getting in the more rigorous coastal ride his day called for. He seemed to be some kind of masochist where this woman was concerned.

  Because he cared. No going back on that one. He’d acknowledged it. He had feelings for her. They were there.

  “You ready?” She took off before he did, leaving him to follow her. It had happened before. They took turns leading the way. So why did it bother him that afternoon?

  When they rode for twenty minutes in silence, he told himself that was a good thing. The way it should be. Going according to plan. The vagaries of his day started to fade, and he noticed that the sky was a perfect blue with the sun setting over the trees in what would be a fantastic picture for someone into the art of photography.

  He was into his work. His home and Talley. His parents. Friends from college. Bike riding, a good game of tennis. Racquetball. Sun and sand and time at the ocean. An occasional, lazy day binge watching television.

  And Amelia Grace. He’d ridden up beside her a few times. In front of her twice. And behind her for the majority of the ride. She’d yielded to cars and pedestrians in the moderately busy neighborhood, swerving to miss a ball that bounced from a couple of boys in a yard to the street in front of them.

  He’d reprimanded himself for trying to get another glimpse of the small bump he’d seen two days before during their little shack retreat.

  And wondered if she’d felt the baby kick yet. Once she felt that intimate proof of life, she’d either relax and let herself believe her dreams were coming true. Or she’d panic more, fearing that she was going to get that close to happiness and then lose again. Either way, he wanted to be aware when it was happening.

  As they turned to head back, signaling the last half of the ride—really the last quarter, as their turning point was closer to their cars than the distance they’d traveled from them—he pedaled up next to her.

  “You mad at me?” he asked. Those moments while they’d waited out the dark clouds on Sunday might have changed things for her, too. Not that they’d talk about that. But if he’d somehow revealed more of what he’d been feeling than he’d thought, or intended, it was up to him to reassure her that nothing was changing between them. His feelings...they were his. He’d deal with them on his own. Separate and apart from her and their agreement.

  “Of course not.” She glanced at him, frowning. “Why you would think that? What could I have to be angry with you about? Unless...” She slowed her bike. “Did you do something I don’t know about that’s going to piss me off?”

  Like fall in love with her? Even just temporarily? God, let it be temporary.

  “You’ve just been off today. Something’s bothering you.” He didn’t ask. He wasn’t giving her the chance to deny her mood. To make her feel as though she had to lie to him.

  “I’m just...pondering,” she said. She’d kept the slower pace and he adjusted his speed to match hers, riding closer to her so that they could talk.

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  She glanced at him, a strand of long auburn hair, having escaped from her helmet, touching her cheek and shoulder and dangling down her arm. She never wore jewelry when they rode, but he’d noticed a while back that she had pierced ears. Had thought of buying her a pair of garnet earrings once when he’d seen them displayed at the mall, figuring they’d bring out the highlights in her hair.

  That had been before he’d known he was in trouble. Before he’d realized he was falling for her. But he should have known. When he’d seen the earrings, he’d been at the mall with Kim, one of the two women he’d had semiserious relationships with since Tricia’s death. They’d run into each other one afternoon at the grocery store—which was where they’d first met. Thinking that now he was finding his peace of mind regarding his donated sperm, he might be more able to get on with finding a woman to settle down with, he had asked her out. They’d gone out the past few Friday nights.

  But not the next one. Not now that he knew that he was harboring temporary feelings for the woman carrying his child.

  Amelia hadn’t answered him about whether she had something on her mind. Apparently she didn’t want to talk about it. Whatever it was.

  Not him. That’s all that should concern him, all that was within his circle of control. Unless something was bothering her that he could help with. Something other than not understanding her fear of finding out the sex of her child. Something new.

  Had she found out the sex of the baby since they had last spoken? He glanced toward the T-shirt bagging out over her thighs as she pedaled. Was it a girl? A boy? Would he have a son in the world who’d learn to throw a baseball without him? A little girl who didn’t have a daddy to take her to a father-daughter dance? If they even did those anymore.

  “There’s this New York designer...” Amelia’s words broke into his thoughts so abruptly it took him a second to get up to speed with her. Apparently she did “want to talk about it.”

  “He asked Angie to come work for him. She would be designing exclusively rather than part-time, the way things are now, where she has to spend so much time helping to run the business.”

  His gut sank. This wasn’t little. Amelia’s family was everything to her. Angie was all set up to be a prominent security source for Amelia’s child. He was surprised she was even riding at all. And so calmly.

  “Does she want to go?”

  “No. And she told him so. She told me she loves being the boss, and I know that she does,” she said, glancing at him. “She’s always been a little bossy.”

  “And you aren’t?” The teasing words came out of him naturally, as though they were friends.

  She grinned, as he’d meant her to do, and said, “Of course I am. Which is why we share that position at Feel Good.” She sobered then; he saw her expression flatten out, as if she was not even aware of what houses they were passing. In that moment, she was everything to him.

  “She doesn’t want to go, and yet you’re still bothered. Does that mean you think she should?”

  “I don’t know what I think, and that’s why I’m bothered.”

  He was beginning to see a pattern. Amelia didn’t get upset about problems or having to fix them. She got upset when she didn’t know how to fix them.

  He could relate to that. One hundred percent.

  “I think the position would be fun for her. And it’s certainly a
compliment that she was even asked. But I don’t know that she’d be happy in New York. And I’m pretty certain she wouldn’t be happy living that far from home. And that’s not really what’s bugging me,” she said. “I just... I have ideas for Feel Good, solid, researched and analyzed business choices for growth. Angie doesn’t like them. She wants us to stay a smallish, family-owned business. So now that she’s got this offer... I’m finding myself wanting to give her what she wants so she’ll stay. And that’s me being me. Trying to please, giving up what I think is best, for the one I love. Maybe I’m obsessing over her, trying too hard to compensate...

  “Or am I? Growing Feel Good isn’t like a driving need of mine. It’s just sound business. But we’re already comfortable enough. Anyway...the designer called this afternoon, sweetening his deal to Angie. He really wants her.”

  “How old is this guy?” An instant protective feeling sprang naturally to mind. He’d never met Amelia’s sister, but if she looked anything like Amelia, she must be drop-dead gorgeous.

  “Sixty-two. And he’s gay,” Amelia said, giving him a look and cocking her head at him. “Get your head out of the gutter, Harmon,” she said. “Angie’s just really that good.”

  He hadn’t doubted Angie’s talent for a second. Or her rightness for the job. He just...lived in a world where he now cared about both Grace sisters. Even the one he hadn’t met. They were going to be raising his child together.

  “Is she considering taking him up on his offer?”

  “No. I just don’t know if it’s my job to encourage her to do so. I don’t want her to go, but what if it’s best for her?”

  “I’d think that would be something she has to decide, right? As long as you aren’t stopping her from going, or making it difficult to say she wants to go, then you’ve done your job.”

  She pulled to a halt at a stop sign they’d blown through two other times. There was no traffic on the quiet road now, either.

  “How do you always know just what to say to me?” she asked.