A Baby Affair

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  He shrugged. Grinned. Made a joke to hide the truth.

  He had a feeling he knew what to say because, for some truly god-awful reason, she was the woman with whom his soul currently wanted to connect.

  * * *

  Craig hadn’t said anything more about the sex of the baby the rest of their ride. Amelia still felt uncomfortable for not having called the clinic. She’d figured, after Sunday’s conversation, Craig would hold her accountable to facing her fears.

  Instead, he’d picked up on her confusion over Angie’s situation, and by the end of the ride she’d been more at ease where her younger sister was concerned. She’d done what she could, would continue to do it, to support her sister whichever way she chose, to love her and let her know life would be okay either way, and then she let it go.

  What a concept! A relief. To do what she could and let the rest go.

  It wasn’t a new theory, of course.

  She and her sister had dinner together at Amelia’s condo Wednesday night and talked for hours. Wonderful hours. About growing up and hopes and dreams, about family and wants and needs. All stuff they’d been over before and delved into again as they talked about the future. No choices were made. Nothing changed between them. Probably not even the conversation, but for Amelia, it seemed new. And felt so good.

  Increasingly at peace with the Angie situation, Amelia found herself almost obsessing about the sex of her baby on Thursday. While she waited for tea to brew she thought of boy names. And when she took a bathroom break, she had girl names on the brain. She still hadn’t really felt the baby move. Not for sure. There’d been some bubbles that could have been movement.

  She wasn’t calling them that. Not until she knew for sure.

  Now that they’d signed the deal for the “lace embellished jewelry,” she had serious designing to do and had set aside hours on Thursday specifically for that purpose. Angie was handling all business calls, situations and problems for her as she sat holed up in her office, refusing to leave her drawing table, having to replace the lightbulb that illuminated the white top from underneath, and stay there until she’d produced something that pleased her.

  She had sketched one earring. So similar to the prototype that she ripped off the page and threw it away. Picking up her tablet, she played with the electronic designing choices, and exited out of the program without saving. She picked up her pencil again, went back to the light board and drew a tiny denim jumper with lacy pockets and a colorful lacy butterfly sewn to the bib.

  Baby clothes! Why hadn’t she thought of that? Shaking her head, she ran for Angie, who was in her office next door on the phone. Judging by her frown, and the way her sister’s mouth remained firm, she was on a business call that couldn’t wait.

  A new idea could.

  She’d drawn a jumper instead of a bracelet. Did that mean she wanted a girl? Was having a girl? Or had the baby apparel been for a girl because...their customers, their product, was female based? A sudden vision of Craig holding a little girl in a lace embellished jumper had her drop her marker and turn off the board.

  Back in her own office, knowing her sister would seek her out once she’d taken care of whatever she was dealing with, Amelia thought again of Craig. He thought she was afraid to know the sex of the baby because she was afraid to let it be real until it was viable. Or had he just led her to figuring that out for herself?

  Either way...there was truth in it. She was afraid to believe that she was really going to have her family. Afraid to let herself believe. To count on it.

  Afraid to let herself try to open the door to more with the man who was taking up so many of her thoughts—and bringing such pleasure into her days? Afraid to acknowledge that she cared about him.

  Afraid because she’d done all she could do, was doing all she could do, and the rest...was out of her control.

  So...just like with Angie’s decision, she had to let the fear go.

  A vision of Craig came to mind, standing in his oh-so-sexy riding gear in between their bikes, waiting for her. As he would be in just a few hours. And the vision changed. One of the bikes had a stroller attached to the back with a sleeping bundle inside.

  She had to call. To find out the sex of the baby. She’d tell him tonight.

  He wanted to know. Telling him would be good for both of them. He seemed like her unofficial sponsor as she got over her need to hang on so tight to things that were out of her control.

  That was it. She was going to call now. But as she glanced at her cell, she picked up her pencil, starting to draw. Fine metal chain links appeared, every two connected by a small lace rose. Beads appeared in bell caps, in place of the chain link...different stones for the various colors of lace she already knew she’d be getting.

  The afternoon wore on. Angie came in, said they’d had to fire a packaging employee for anger-related issues, but that in the end, according to their plant manager, the woman had gone peacefully. Angie was truly excited about the idea of experimenting with baby clothes, was going to run to a box store, get some inexpensive items and start playing around with them.

  And Amelia was already on her way to her meet with Craig—something Angie tolerated but still worried about—before she actually gave the voice command for her car system to dial the Parent Portal. She might not even be able to get ahold of someone who had the authority to look at her records, her test results and give her the information she sought on such a short notice.

  She’d promised herself she’d know by the time she saw Craig. That she’d tell him.

  His body. Those riding pants. Images flashed. Confusing her as the ringing on the line played through her system. She was nervous, getting more tense with each ring. And she was growing moist down below, too.

  He wasn’t going to be a father to her baby, but she wanted him—it wasn’t just hormones. The craving was growing worse, not easing off.

  “The Parent Portal.” The professional feminine voice cleared Amelia’s mind.

  “This is Amelia Grace. I had the NIPT several weeks ago and opted not to know the sex of my child, but I’ve changed my mind. Is there someone there who can get that information for me?”

  If she’d chosen to use her own obstetrician, she could have called an office, but she hadn’t. She’d wanted to stay at the Parent Portal, working with their doctors. She was approaching the last corner before the street where she was meeting Craig.

  “Just one moment, Ms. Grace, and I’ll check on that for you.”

  On what? Check on what? The sex of her child? Or whether there was anyone there who could give her that information?

  She turned the corner. The parking lot they were meeting in was half a mile ahead on the right. He might not be there yet. She was five minutes early. He was always there when she arrived. Always.

  Maybe he was one of those people who had to be early everywhere they went. She couldn’t stand to waste time waiting around. Nope, she was a right-on-time kind of person...her mind babbled, glommed on that which didn’t matter...to distract her from that which did. Waiting was excruciating.

  “Ms. Grace?”

  She slowed as she approached the lot. Turned in.

  “Yes?”

  “I have that information you wanted,” the voice on the other end of the phone said as she parked and spotted Craig, standing between their two bikes.

  “Okay.” She was yards away from the sperm donor—the man who’d somehow become dear to her.

  “You ready?”

  Oh, God, get it done! “Yes.”

  “It’s a girl, Ms. Grace! You’re having a girl!”

  A girl. Isabella. The name suddenly appeared, fully formed, in her mind.

  A girl!

  She was having a baby girl!

  Looking down, Amelia cupped her stomach, surprised when a tear dropped off her face, wetting her hand.

&
nbsp; “I love you, little Isabella. I love you so much.”

  She wasn’t just pregnant anymore. She had an unborn daughter.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Watching Amelia pull into the lot, Craig’s welcoming smile dissipated when he saw her pull to a stop long before reaching him.

  Leaving the bikes, he headed toward her car, concerned. Was she bleeding? Having contractions?

  On the phone? he asked the questions silently, and with an oversized dose of self-disdain, slowing as he saw that she was in an active conversation.

  He was about to turn around, to make it back to the bikes before she saw that he’d ever left them, before she knew he’d been rushing toward her, when he noticed her head move, her chin drop down to her chest.

  At the car, he saw her hand rubbing her belly. She was crying.

  His heart stopped. And then raced. He yanked on the door handle. It was locked. But she heard him, of course. Glanced up at him.

  And that look on her face, beaming with something far greater than happiness, stopped the world from spinning. From turning at all.

  She opened her door. “It’s a girl,” she said as she got out. “Her name is Isabella.”

  He wasn’t sure how it happened, but she was suddenly in his arms and he was holding on. Tight. It was the first time they’d touched, other than hands passing over a bike, and the one brief kiss, and her body molded his. Thighs, stomach, chest to breast, her arms around his neck. He was in heaven. And the deepest of hells, too.

  Because she was having a daughter, one that he’d helped create, but he would be sharing his life with neither of them: this beautiful woman nor the child she carried.

  He held on. And then he let go. “You still want to ride?” he asked, getting himself firmly into his role in the moment. Finding his bedside manner—the one where he empathized, cared, but from a distance. He might play an intimate, prominent part during the moments his patients were with him, but he wasn’t meant to be a part of their daily lives. He was a professional service. Not a personal relationship.

  Whether or not he wanted more was irrelevant. Unless, or until, Amelia invited him in...

  “Of course.” Amelia sounded like she was on cloud nine as she walked beside him. And as though she knew that the situation was a little touchy for him, or maybe his lack of verbal response to her news had clued her in, she said, “Angie and I decided today to introduce some lace embellished baby clothes into our brand. We’ll start out like we always do, with a few test pieces and go from there. Since we order in the basic pieces, and embellish by hand until an item is established, the initial cost will be minimal.”

  “So she’s staying?”

  “That’s never been a question, according to her. I was the one making the offer more than it was.”

  She went to her bike—Tricia’s bike, which Amelia was borrowing, he reminded himself—lifted the kickstand and stepped over the middle rail so she was straddling the bike between her legs.

  Another moment and she’d have her foot on the pedal, her cute butt on the seat, and she’d be heading off.

  Craig stopped short of mounting his own bike.

  “Congratulations,” he said, looking her in the eye. “I’m proud of you for calling.”

  He was. And he was happy for her, too. Honestly. Maybe now he could begin the separation process. The letting go.

  She nodded, still smiling. “I can’t believe I waited for so long.”

  “People have a tendency to procrastinate when the results mean a lot to them,” he offered. “Good or bad,” he added.

  “Yeah,” she said, and broke eye contact, settled on the bike seat. “I shouldn’t have waited so long.”

  She was talking about the results, about how she felt, having a daughter. And he watched. He couldn’t let himself imagine how that felt. Wouldn’t let himself. There was no good to come of doing so. Not until he had a family of his own.

  And unless Amelia asked him to be a part of hers, he didn’t yet have one, no matter how strongly he felt about her. And the baby girl she was carrying.

  His daughter.

  He led off with a hard push, yearning again for the cliff trail he’d ridden hard the day before. Yearning harder. Yeah, it might be time to start letting go.

  * * *

  Less than five minutes into the ride, Craig slowed so they were side by side, and asked, “Is Isabella a family name?”

  He’d been thinking about her, and her daughter, nonstop. Of course.

  “No, why? Don’t you like it?”

  As in, it must be a family name or why else choose it? He hoped to God that wasn’t what she’d thought he meant. He was just trying to stay on the outside looking in, while telling himself he shouldn’t be looking in at all.

  He knew that Isabella was going to be well cared for. Well loved.

  His job was done here. Except that she’d asked a question. Where or not he liked the name she’d chosen. And...he was contributing to his daughter’s health by giving her mother this opportunity to exercise. For another three or four weeks. Once she entered her third trimester, or grew enough of a stomach to change her balance abilities, they would stop.

  So that’s when he’d be done. Done with the job he’d set himself—to ensure the well-being of his genetic offspring.

  Right. Made sense. He couldn’t let go just yet. But in a few weeks, he’d bow out for sure. And learn then how to live with the love growing inside him for both the mother and her child.

  “I like the name,” he assured her, feeling a weight lift off him as he reached his decision. He had a few more weeks to go. “I like it a lot, actually.” He really did, when he allowed himself to think about it. “It sounds kind of royal, yet sweet, at the same time.”

  When she didn’t say anything right away, he continued, “I just thought, by what you’d said on Sunday, that you weren’t picking names yet.” He hoped to God his asinine response to her news hadn’t offended her. Made her doubt him.

  He’d wanted to know. She’d given him a gift by telling him. She’d shared the news with him first.

  And he’d reacted like a selfish ass.

  “I didn’t think I was. I mean, I think about them, but when I found out she was a girl, the name was just there, in my mind.”

  “I guess it’s good that it wasn’t a boy, then, huh? Isabella might not have worked as well.”

  “He was going to be Winchester,” she said. “Win for short.” She pedaled in silence for a few feet and then added, “I hadn’t made a choice, really. They were just the names I liked best. When I thought about it.”

  And he understood. Giving up trying to control everything that could possibly hurt, letting herself believe that her dream was coming true, didn’t miraculously happen upon realization. Just as he knew that, in spite of his feelings for her, he couldn’t give up on his need to have a family of his own. With a woman who was married to him.

  She’d made the call. She’d taken a step. She was trying to let go of her fear. Just as he knew he had to let go of her and their daughter—eventually.

  The going wouldn’t be easy.

  It was right, though. Just as she knew what she needed to be happy, he did, too.

  Neither one of them was wrong. They were just very different.

  On opposite ends of a spectrum—joined by the spectrum—each with valid purpose. Destined to always be apart.

  * * *

  Almost as though Isabella understood that her mother had opened her heart, the baby kicked the very next day. Amelia was leaning over her drawing board, actually making progress, when the tiny disturbance hit her from underneath her skin. Right there at the surface of it, though. Or so it felt. In that first moment she just froze. Sat there suspended over the light board, her hand raised above the page, pencil dangling.

  By late afternoon it had happen
ed three more times. She’d run into Angie after the first time, but Isabella apparently hadn’t want to share her accomplishment with her aunt. All three times Isabella had moved Amelia had been alone with her daughter. She found that telling.

  And that was why texting Craig to tell him about the movement was wrong. She thought about it. From the first second of the first movement, she’d thought of him. Was painfully tempted. But she didn’t give in.

  She couldn’t need him. Or turn to him for the big moments in her life, no matter how much her heart had begun to yearn for him.

  And yet, those glimpses she was giving him of a child whose life he wasn’t ever going to share seemed to mean a great deal to him. And was such a small thing for her to do, given the big picture.

  She quarreled with herself about Craig all day Saturday, keeping busy with crib and nursery shopping, deciding on a theme of old-fashioned pink and white with teddy bears, choosing decals and paint colors.

  On Sunday she and Craig were back at the parking lot at which they’d met for her very first bike ride. They’d never been back to his neighborhood, but when he’d suggested that they do that ride again, asked if she was opposed to it, she’d had no reason to disagree.

  She found out why he’d wanted to take that particular route when she arrived to find a beautiful collie on a leash beside him.

  “She used to always do my Sunday rides with me,” Craig said as she approached, looking at the gorgeous animal she knew must be Talley. “She’s doing so much better, so I wanted to give her a try today.”

  Which was why he’d needed to be in his neighborhood, she surmised. So Talley could be close to home if needed.

  “You could have just told me that when you asked if I wanted to ride here again.”

  “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do so...if my area makes you uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t feel like I have to do anything where you’re concerned,” she told him. Which was the whole point. He wasn’t going to be that much of an entity in her life...right?