She Gets That from Me

by Robin Wells

  “I love your attitude, Annie,” Sarah says.

  “Thanks.” Annie turns to me. “And how about you, Quinn?”

  Everyone looks at me expectantly.

  “I have four pieces of news. First of all, I’m officially in the second trimester. I went to the doctor for my monthly checkup a couple of weeks ago, and everything is going as it should. I’ll get another ultrasound at the next checkup that should tell me the baby’s sex.”

  Annie claps. “Oh, how wonderful!”

  Everyone smiles and congratulates me.

  “Secondly, Miss Margaret is doing really well. It looks like she’s going to get to come home next Friday. So I’d like to have a ‘welcome home’ dinner for her, and I want all of you to come.”

  “How fun!”

  “I’ll be there with bells on!”

  “I’ll text everybody the details as soon as her release date is certain,” I say. My heart is warmed by the smiling faces of these dear friends. “As for my third piece of news . . .” I pause and draw a deep breath. “Zack’s wife served him with divorce papers, and he’s not moving to Seattle after all. He’s staying here in New Orleans.”

  “You’re kidding!” Lauren gasps.

  “Oh my!” Annie exclaims.

  Oh my, indeed. I nod.

  “But there’s a fourth piece of news: Zack is moving into Brooke’s old house this weekend.”

  I explain the chain of events amid more exclamations.

  “I’ve swapped out the furniture in Brooke’s bedroom with some from my shop to give it a more masculine look,” I say. “And I changed out a lot of the accessories to make it more reflective of his tastes.”

  “And Lily’s okay with this?” Annie asks.

  I nod. “She’s excited. She loves the idea of having him nearby. She helped me pick out new pillows and lamps, and drew some pictures for him that I’ve framed.”

  “So Zack is getting divorced.” Lauren shoots me a speculative glance. “That means he’s single.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

  “He will be soon.”

  “You’re planning to jump on that, right?”

  I shake my head and laugh, but my heart skips a little. “Oh, Lauren, it’s way too soon to think along those lines.”

  “Oh, please.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.”

  My face heats, which means I’m blushing. “I’m trying not to go there,” I say. “A relationship with Zack is loaded with problems.”

  “Like what?” Mac asks.

  “For starters, I don’t want to be a rebound romance.”

  “How much time does it usually take for someone to be ready for a new relationship after a divorce?” Annie turns to Sarah.

  Sarah lifts her shoulders. “It varies a lot.”

  “Well, the divorce isn’t the only issue,” I say. “I want a man who wants me for myself, not just because I have his children.”

  “I understand that.” Annie nods.

  “And children raise the stakes,” I say. “They make it even more important that their parents have a rock-solid relationship—if they have a relationship.”

  “Yes.” Annie’s head bobs vigorously. “I entirely agree.”

  “The last thing I want is for my children to have parents who aren’t really in love.”

  “It’s good to be cautious,” Lauren says, “but you also want to be happy.”

  “Good point,” Annie says. “Look at it this way: if you’d met Zack online or at a business function or in some way that didn’t involve Lily and your baby, you’d be interested in him, wouldn’t you?”

  What red-blooded woman wouldn’t? “I might,” I say cautiously, “if he were completely divorced and emotionally available. But he’s neither of those things right now.”

  “But he will be.” Annie smiles encouragingly. “Just take things slow and easy.”

  “That’s what I told her,” Sarah says.

  “That’s always good advice,” I agree. Some form of the suggestion is written in every self-help book I’ve ever read, and it seems to apply to just about every situation.

  Now, if I could just figure out how to convey slow and easy to my pulse rate whenever Zack is around.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Jessica

  “GO, PETEY!” I jump with excitement in the viewing stand as the little boy smacks the softball with the bat and races to first base. I hold my breath until his foot is on the base marker.

  “Wahoo!’” I yell, clapping. “Way to go!” I turn to Brett. “Did you see that? He was amazing!”

  “I saw, I saw. If my shirt had buttons, they’d be popping off with Papa pride.” His eyes are warm as he smiles at me. He bends down and gives me a hard kiss.

  I’m a little shocked. He’s never kissed me before. It wasn’t a particularly romantic kiss, yet it wasn’t platonic, either. It’s the kind of happy-moment celebration kiss you might give someone you’ve kissed a lot. I don’t object—in fact, I feel sparks, and my lips still tingle from it—but I’m a little taken aback.

  It’s a couple’s kind of kiss, and I still feel coupled with Zack.

  “What was that for?” I ask.

  “You’re just so adorable, cheering for my son like that.”

  My heart thumps erratically. “He’s a great kid. And that was an amazing hit.”

  Brett nods. “He is, and it was.”

  “He let the boy on third base run to home plate!”

  “I know.”

  “I never knew a ball game could be so exciting.”

  He laughs. “I’ve never seen you so enthusiastic before. I love this side of you.”

  My pulse hops and quickens.

  He grins at me. “I have to say, you seem really fond of Petey for a woman who doesn’t want to date a man with children.”

  “Didn’t want to. Past tense,” I correct. “That was before I married Zack. I didn’t say I felt that way now.” He said date. Are we dating? I feel my face flush. “Besides, Petey’s a special case.” I’ve spent some time with him and Brett over the last few weeks, and the boy has stolen my heart. Just last Saturday, Petey, Brett, and I went to the Pacific Science Center. Petey was fascinated by all the exhibits and asked questions throughout the planetarium show. I love his inquisitive nature and his no-BS personality.

  Brett smiles. “And me?”

  That kiss still burns on my lips. “You’re a special case, too.” Our eyes meet, and a current runs between us. It’s more than attraction; I feel an emotional pull. But I know I need to tell him the truth. “I love spending time with you, but I’m not thinking of this as a date. It’s too soon after my split from Zack.”

  “That’s completely understandable,” he says. “And I apologize if I was out of line. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”

  “Oh, I’m not uncomfortable. And I’m not disinterested.” I smile, and he grins back—a sexy grin that gives me another electric zap. “I’m just not ready.” I hesitate, then spill what’s on my mind. “I guess I don’t feel like things have fully ended with Zack.”

  “I guess I’m not surprised.”

  “You’re not?”

  He shakes his head. “Not really. It takes some time for your head and your heart to sync up. But I’m also wondering . . .”

  “What?”

  His gaze connects with mine—really connects, in a way I haven’t felt with Zack in a long, long time. He rubs his jaw. “I hate to say this because it goes against my personal interests, but I wonder if you need to go back and have a heart-to-heart talk with Zack.”

  “There’s no point. We’re in an irreconcilable situation.”

  “Maybe so, but you walked out and filed for divorce without really talking things through.”

  I stare at the
ball field, where the coach for the opposing team is changing out the pitcher.

  “I made a couple of pathetic last-ditch attempts with Sue Anne, and as bad as it felt at the time, it’s been important in the long run to know I did everything I could,” he says.

  “You tried to patch things up, even though she was seeing another man?” I look a few bleacher rows forward and to the right, where she and her fiancé are sitting. I have to say, Sue Anne and Brett seem to have a friendly relationship. When we arrived, she and Brett greeted each other with a kiss, and the two men shook hands. Sue Anne even seemed genuinely glad to see me.

  He nods. “For Petey’s sake, I felt like I had to try. And in the end, knowing I’d done all I could gave me peace of mind and closure.”

  Another little boy is up at home plate. His freckled face is puckered in concentration as he holds the bat near his shoulder. The ball soars toward him. He swings so hard he spins around, missing it by a mile.

  “Shake it off,” shouts a man in the stands—probably his father. “Just put it behind you.”

  “I like that man’s philosophy better,” I say.

  Brett grins. “That’s great advice for softball. Probably not so great for ending a marriage.”

  “So you think I should try to patch things up with Zack?”

  “I’m not saying that. I just think that you owe it to yourselves and your marriage—or at least to the memory you’ll have of your marriage in the future—to sit down face-to-face and talk. You’ll never regret having an honest conversation, but you might regret not having one.”

  His words resonate deep inside, in the place I recognize unwanted truths—a place I’ve ignored for too long. “Peace of mind and closure sound pretty good,” I say.

  “You only get those by living out your values.”

  Hell—my values have been centered on achievements and milestones, on trying to look and feel successful. I’ve been so focused on pushing toward the next goal, and then the next, that I haven’t seriously considered what success really means.

  What are my values? Underneath all the external stuff, what really matters? What kind of person, deep down, do I want to be?

  Someone who treats others the way I want to be treated, I realize. Someone who follows the Golden Rule.

  I mentally apply it to my situation with Zack, and my spirits plummet still further. If the shoe were on the other foot, I would have hated being served divorce papers at work without any real notice. Chagrin spreads through me.

  Values. What a damned inconvenient thing to learn at this point in my life!

  “Hell,” I mutter. “I think you might be right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  “How did you get so smart?”

  “Oh, I’ve always been the guy with all the answers.” He gives a self-deprecating grin. “If you don’t believe me, just ask Sue Anne.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  Quinn

  Monday, July 8

  IS DADDY COMING over tonight?” Lily asks as soon as I pick her and Alicia up at preschool. It’s a question she asks every day.

  “As a matter of fact, he is. He’s going to grill us dinner.”

  “Hamburgers?” she asks, her face hopeful.

  “Nope. Chicken, corn on the cob, and zucchini.”

  “Yay!” Lily says. “Sounds yummy!”

  I grin. I could tell her Zack is fixing snake innards and wombat gizzards and she’d probably be thrilled. Lily has rapidly turned into a real Daddy’s girl.

  I worry a little about it. Zack and I have still never addressed the question of how often he should see Lily; instead, we’ve fallen into a pattern where it almost feels like we’re playing house. Ever since he moved into Brooke’s home last week, he calls every day to check on us and comes by nearly as often. He plays with Lily outside and gives me time to rest, because pregnancy fatigue hits me hard in the early evening. He entertains Lily with yo-yo tricks and is teaching her the basics on a toddler-friendly yo-yo, which no doubt makes Brooke smile in heaven. He usually eats dinner with us; sometimes, like tonight, he cooks.

  He helps out around the house, too. He runs errands and sweeps the kitchen, and last weekend he replaced the glass-paneled French doors in the downstairs office with solid wood ones to turn it into a bedroom for Margaret.

  He’s become such a regular part of our lives that Lily remarks on his absence when he’s not there to tuck her in bed. The other night when Zack was on one side of her and I was on the other, she said, “I love it when you’re here, Daddy, because I like being Lucky Pierre.”

  I thought Zack would fall off the bed. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

  “From a boy at school. He said it’s what his daddy calls someone in the middle.”

  “Oh. I see.” He tried hard not to laugh and failed. His attempt to hide it by pretending to cough made me laugh, which made him laugh harder, which made Ruffles start barking. Lily laughed, too, although she had no idea what was funny.

  The more time Lily and I spend with Zack, the more attached we’re both becoming to him. I’m concerned that Lily is getting too accustomed to his frequent visits.

  I’m concerned that I look forward to them too much. I’m concerned that I’m feeling more and more attracted to him.

  I know it’s too soon and probably not a good idea, but I don’t really know how to stop.

  * * *

  —

  “G’NIGHT, DADDY.” LILY reaches up and hugs Zack’s neck.

  “Good night, Lily-kins.” He kisses her cheek.

  “G’night, Mommy Quinn.”

  “Good night, precious girl.” I give her a warm embrace and press my lips to her forehead. She snuggles up to Sugar Bear, and I tuck them both under the covers. “Sleep tight!”

  Zack grins at me as we turn out the light and leave the room, closing the door behind us.

  “Every time we put her to bed, I want to wake her up and talk to her some more.”

  “I know what you mean,” I say, my heart full. “I never knew I could love anyone so much.”

  He nods and his gaze locks with mine. A lot more than our eyes seem to be communicating. I put my hand on my stomach as he follows me down the stairs.

  “How’s the other little one treating you?”

  “Pretty well,” I say. “I still keep the crackers handy, but I’ve noticed a big improvement.”

  “Have you tried the fetal Doppler?”

  “Not yet,” I say. “The box says ‘as early as twelve weeks,’ but if you read further, it says twenty weeks is the norm. It might still be too early.”

  “If you like, we can give it a try,” he says. “I brought batteries.” He motions to the kitchen counter, where he’d placed them after emptying the grocery bag he’d brought.

  “Okay. Sure.” I go into the dining room and retrieve the box containing the device. He opens it at the kitchen island, puts in the batteries, and then studies the instructions, his expression serious. I wish his serious face weren’t so seriously sexy. It makes my heart race and my palms sweat.

  “It says you need to lie down, then we need to put this gel on your lower stomach.” He holds up a bottle that came in the box. “Then we’ll slide this gizmo around until hopefully we find a heartbeat.”

  “It’s a lot like what my obstetrician uses,” I say. Except the transducer on this machine is disconcertingly shaped like a penis, the instructions call it a probe, and the man I have an embarrassing crush on is going to use it on me.

  We go into the living room and I lie down on the sofa. My heart jackhammers in my chest as I pull up my T-shirt and adjust my yoga pants to a modest bikini position. Zack kneels beside me and opens the lid on the bottle of gel. The thought of him rubbing it on my naked belly makes me quake.

  It evidently gives him pause, as well. “Maybe you should do
this.”

  I take the bottle, pour some gel in my hand, and smear it on my slightly swollen stomach. He turns on the device, then gently places the probe at my navel.

  The jolt of contact makes me jump. I’m hyperaware of how close he is; I can smell the starch of his shirt and the faint male scent of him. I feel a buzz of electricity that has nothing to do with the batteries in the Doppler and everything to do with him.

  He moves the probe against my skin, his face again set in that sexy-serious expression. A loud wop wop wop sounds through the machine. “I think I found it!” he says.

  “I think that’s my heart,” I tell him.

  “It’s really fast.”

  I try to shrug, but the gesture doesn’t really work lying down. “I’m excited to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”

  Liar. I’m excited that Zack is so close to me, doing something so intimate.

  He checks the instructions, then tries again, once again catching my traitorously fast heartbeat.

  “It’s too early,” I say, after he makes a few more excruciatingly sensual passes below my navel. “We should wait a few more weeks.”

  “Yeah,” he says, turning off the machine.

  I start to sit up.

  “Wait,” he says. “I’ll get you a paper towel.”

  I lie there, my heart still drumming. He returns, reaches out as if he were about to wipe my tummy, and then hesitates. Our eyes meet, and goose bumps cover my skin.

  “You should probably do this,” he says, handing me the towel.

  I don’t trust my voice. I nod, wipe off the gel, and sit up.

  “Well,” he says.

  “Yeah. Well,” I inanely echo.

  “I, um, should probably go,” he says. I nod and walk him to the door.

  I lean against it after I close it behind him, my heart racing, my knees weak. Nothing actually happened, I tell myself.

  And yet, I’m pretty sure something did.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE