A week ago, he’d been in Colorado, puzzling over how he’d get his father’s caregiver situation squared away so that he could go off to Afghanistan or wherever his next assignment sent him. He’d been thinking he’d pressure his two brothers over the holidays to step in and take some responsibility for the situation—not his mother—and he’d had no idea how profoundly his life was about to change.
He’d even been stupid enough to wonder if he might hook up with Soleil again, spend some more time with her. If he’d only known.
He surveyed the store, aisle after aisle of cutesy baby paraphernalia, and he again had the urge to go hunt a wild boar. Soleil, for her part, looked just as bewildered. She stepped tentatively forward, then stopped, frowning at a display of how-to books, each cover cutesier than the last.
“God,” she muttered, picking up a book with a picture of a pregnant woman in a rocking chair on the cover. “How lame do they think women are?”
West picked up a hefty tome entitled The Breast-feeding Book, half wondering what it had to say in all those pages that he hadn’t already learned in that three-page article. Soleil eyed his selection but said nothing.
“So we’re here for a crib, right?” he asked as he returned the book to the shelf.
“Right,” she said, fumbling in her purse and pulling out a list. “And a few other things.”
“What are these things?” West picked up a U-shaped pillow decorated with pictures of daisies and put it up to his face. “For sleeping facedown?”
Soleil laughed. “It’s a nursing pillow. Didn’t you learn all about them in that breast-feeding article?”
“Wait a sec. How does this thing work?” He held it down at his waist, then squeezed it on like a life preserver.
“You wear it like that while you’re sitting down, and it supports the baby and your arms. It’s a comfort thing, I guess.”
“For someone who reads the New Yorker, you sure know a lot about weird-looking baby equipment.”
She rolled her eyes at him and turned her attention back to the cribs. “We didn’t come here to buy that,” she said.
“So…are you planning to breast-feed?”
“Sure, why not. I’ll finally get to put these inconvenient things to use,” she said, motioning at her chest.
“Trust me, those are anything but inconvenient.”
“You’ve never gone jogging with them.”
“I would if I could,” he joked, and she finally cracked a smile.
Watching her in profile as she studied the selection of cribs, he felt overcome with a feeling he’d never had for her before. He’d always found her attractive and exciting, but now, the way they’d settled into this sort of companionable day, even with the momentous stuff that had happened, she felt like…like a friend.
She felt like not only someone he wanted to sleep with, but someone he wanted to hang out with, talk to and solicit opinions from.
He appreciated that she was making an effort to get along. And he, for his part, was trying his best not to goad her into any arguments for the fireworks value. Besides, he was in no mood for games lately.
“What do you think of this one?” she said, indicating a mahogany bed with simple lines and a sweeping sort of sleighlike headboard and footboard.
“It’s beautiful,” he said. “Is that the one you want?”
She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Let’s get it.”
They went in search of a salesperson to help them, and along the way, West eyed the mind-boggling amount of baby stuff to be bought.
“Should we, uh, be buying all this other stuff, too? Because I can cover the tab. It’s the least I can do—”
“Not yet,” she said. “There’ll probably be a shower in another month or two, and people will give us gifts. Once we see what everyone’s given us, then we can go shopping for the stuff we still need.”
There was that word. We. She’d used it three times. And us.
He liked hearing her talk that way, but he also knew she only meant it in the simplest sense. She wasn’t suggesting anything by it.
Or was she?
The way today had gone, how could she not start thinking of them as a couple? They’d seen their baby for the first time together. They were shopping for cribs now.
This was heavy-duty stuff.
His throat went tight, and he tried to stuff down his feelings as Soleil talked to a salesperson about having the crib delivered to her house.
He could feel his future taking shape for the first time. Until now, he’d lived his life in the moment. He’d lived for the thrill of his work and nothing more, but now…
Now he had something bigger to live for. And his baby was depending on him to make a plan, to think about the future, to be responsible in a way he’d never been called upon to be before.
He knew what he had to do. So many things made sense now that didn’t before. Soleil and him—they had a lot to decide, and at the same time, all the decisions were obvious.
He didn’t want to play it cool. He wanted to make sure Soleil understood that they were supposed to be together. No more taking his time, giving her space, or any of that crap.
He was going to make them a family, the way they were supposed to be.
SOLEIL ALLOWED the motion of the car to lull her into a trance as they rode back to Promise. She was surprised at what a good day she and West had had together. She could even imagine them working well together as parents. No, that was probably pregnancy hormones getting the best of her.
She cast a glance at him, then looked away again quickly before he could make eye contact.
Could they be happy together?
Was it really so preposterous an idea?
Soleil believed romantic notions were mostly societal constructs designed to keep men and women in traditional roles. They persisted because they served to keep civilization intact. They didn’t necessarily serve any individual—and certainly not any female individual—well.
But what about the baby?
Her gut wrenched. That was the reason the societal constructs existed. Family units were good for raising babies. The individual was supposed to be overshadowed by the needs of the child.
She felt again as if some vital part of herself was slipping away. What if she ceased to recognize herself at all?
If she was committed to West, would any part of the real her be able to survive?
He was the strongest man she’d ever been with. And, she had to admit, she was used to being the strong, dominant one in the relationship. That was part of the reason she and West had butted heads so frequently in the summer.
But was her sense of self really so fragile that she couldn’t be involved with a strong man who didn’t agree with her on every damn issue?
Hell, no.
“You’re being awfully quiet over there. Anything bothering you?” West asked, breaking the silence.
“Oh, um, no.”
He glanced in her direction but said nothing.
“Okay, yeah. I’m thinking about, you know, how things are going to work, once the baby arrives.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s complicated,” she said, stating the obvious.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Maybe he was right.
“I don’t know,” she said quietly.
“It’s been nice, spending the day with you. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Of course, you can come to the next—” She stopped, realizing too late that he wouldn’t be around for the next one.
“You can call and tell me about it if I’m not here.”
If I’m not here.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, we have to work out some way to share custody of the baby, right?”
“But you’re in the air force.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I could get assigned to Travis Air Force Base. Then I’d only be a few hours away an
d could commute here on weekends.”
“Really? That’s a possibility?”
“I have no idea. Honestly, it would probably be a career-ending move for me. I need to go overseas next to stay competitive for promotion.”
Soleil kept her gaze glued on the passing scenery. Her eyes stung, though. She didn’t like to hear West putting his career first, which was ridiculous since she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear him say he was moving to Promise, either.
“What about you?” he said. “What does your ideal future look like?”
She sighed. “It used to look pretty much like my present looks now. I love the farm. It’s been the happiest place in my life ever since I was a little kid visiting my grandparents there.”
“So you want your own child to experience it, too.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know what my ideal future looks like now. With a kid, do you even get to hope for ideal? Or do you simply hope for healthy and safe?”
“I’ve never had to think about it before.”
“Neither have I.”
In that, at least, they were united.
But it was cold comfort, and Soleil didn’t dare to hope for anything more right now.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN JULIA’S DOORBELL rang at exactly six the night of her first date with Frank her heart leaped from her chest into her throat. She paused in the foyer and took a few deep, cleansing breaths, but they did little to calm her nerves. Then she opened the door, saw Frank standing there, clutching a bouquet of lavender, and the tension drained away.
“Hello,” she said.
“These are for you.” He smiled, handing her the flowers, and she realized he was as nervous as she had been.
This realization had the effect of calming her even more. She was charmed by the fact that he cared enough to be nervous. Inhaling the scent of the lavender, Julia stepped aside and invited Frank in.
Then she wondered for a moment if she was making some horrible mistake. Wasn’t this how women ended up in the news, unsuspecting victims of violent crimes perpetrated by men they’d met on the Internet? If she closed the door, she’d officially be home alone with this stranger, and—
No, she had to stop this. She was being paranoid.
He looked around. “This is nice. Have you been here long?”
“Ten years,” she said. “I bought my condo after the divorce.”
He gazed up at the high, slanted ceiling with its wood beams. Then his gaze went to the wall, where Julia’s one great extravagance hung. It was an etching she’d bought a few years ago when she’d stopped teaching, a retirement gift to herself.
“Wow, a Lily Keith?” He crossed the room to get a closer look at the stark black-and-white image of a city bursting with life.
“Yes. She’s one of my favorite artists.”
“You have great taste. Did you know she has an exhibit in San Francisco right now at the MOMA?”
Julia blinked. She had to keep reminding herself that Frank was an artist and was therefore interested in art—not only football or hunting or the rest of the stereotypical male interests about which she had little to say.
“Oh? I had no idea.”
He grinned. “Would you like to see it?”
“I’d love to.”
“Tonight?”
Julia laughed in surprise. “I doubt we could make it to the city before the museum closes.”
He smiled. “Good point. But soon, we should go.”
She liked his spontaneity. She needed more of that in her life.
He looked back at the etching, and Julia took the opportunity to study him. He was dressed a little more formally this evening than he had been the first time she’d seen him, in a brown leather coat, a white button-down shirt and a pair of brown khakis that managed to somehow look relaxed and creative rather than stuffy and conformist. She loved that he had a touch of style, on top of being an attractive man.
She was already feeling silly for worrying that he might be someone to fear. He seemed as if he belonged in her home, as if he were an old friend who’d always been part of the landscape.
“You have a flair for decorating,” he said as he surveyed the room.
“Oh, I just have too much time on my hands,” she said, waving away his compliment, though secretly, she was pleased.
He eyed her. “I doubt that.”
“I was thinking we could walk to the town center and have a drink, then wander around to find a place that looks good for dinner.”
“Sounds perfect,” Frank said, smiling. “I don’t come out here to Promise enough. I’ve always loved this town.”
Julia got her coat from the closet and put it on. “The first time I came here, I knew it was where I wanted to live,” she said as they walked outside and she locked the door.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Oh, all over. My father was in the military, as was my ex-husband. I lived everywhere from Korea to Tulsa in my first eighteen years.”
They began walking toward town. Outside, it was dark, but the streetlights in the condo complex illuminated the way out to the main road. The bittersweet scent of the redwoods that grew across from Julia’s unit permeated the air. She loved being able to walk everywhere she needed to go, while still living right next to the lake, too.
“That must have been difficult, moving all the time.”
“I didn’t like it much as a kid, making friends then having to leave them behind and make new ones, but I coped. When I left home and went to college, I got pretty antsy living in the same location for four whole years.”
“And when you were married?”
“Oh, by that time I’d accepted that I didn’t know how to stay in one place. Marrying a military man seemed like the perfect situation.”
Frank shook his head. “But you’ve been here in Promise for quite a while, right? How do you manage now?”
“I went to therapy for a while before and after my divorce, and I realized leaving was a coping mechanism. It was a distraction from things about my life I wasn’t happy with.”
“So once you dealt with those things, you didn’t need to keep moving on?”
“Yes. I could sit still.”
“Must have been a relief to figure that out.”
“It was,” she said quietly. It didn’t seem right to discuss anything surrounding her divorce so early in this relationship, but she supposed vague references were occasionally okay.
“How about your divorce? Was it a very messy one?”
Unless, of course, he asked.
“Aren’t they all?” she said.
“I hear of occasional smooth ones.”
It occurred to Julia that she’d been letting Frank ask most of the questions. “And yours? Smooth or rough?”
“Believe it or not, we split pretty congenially. It had been a long time coming, and we both knew it, I think.”
“Yes, it’s easier if no one is caught by surprise.”
“I’m afraid the kids were surprised by it. That’s my only regret.”
“How old were they?”
“Twenty and twenty-two, but they were still pretty unhappy.”
Julia sighed, thinking of her own kids. “My sons didn’t seem to care that much one way or the other. Probably because they’re boys—they tend to keep their feelings to themselves.”
“Were they grown when you split up?”
“Yes, all three were out of the house. Once we didn’t have raising the boys to distract us from each other anymore, and we were settled in one place finally, there wasn’t any getting around the fact that we made each other miserable.”
Or, to put it more accurately, there was no denying that she no longer wanted to be married to her ex-husband. He’d seemed happy enough with the status quo. But that was a detail for another time.
“That’s exactly what happened to us. Well, and my ex-wife, Linda, had always wanted to live in the city and have a cosmopolitan life. The
girls had been my excuse for staying put, and when I didn’t have that excuse anymore, she picked up and left. We’d grown apart in our interests and priorities, that’s all.”
She didn’t hear any bitterness in his voice, and she was glad of that. It also spoke well of him that he took some ownership for the marriage problems.
“And did Linda remarry?”
“Yes, she’s with a nice man and seems happy. I’m glad to see her moving on.”
“I thought we might have a drink here,” Julia said as they reached the main intersection in town. They stood in front of a lovely little wine bar, warmly lit and inviting.
“Looks perfect.” Without a moment’s resistance, Frank opened the door and waited for her to go inside.
She loved that he could let her select a place without having a debate over it. And she loved that he listened. And asked questions. And seemed interested in the answers.
If she wasn’t careful, she feared she’d start falling for him all too fast. Already she felt a delicious tingle of excitement down low in her belly, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in so many years, she’d forgotten it existed until now.
No, there had to be something wrong with Frank, some fatal flaw lurking about waiting to pop up and surprise her when she least expected it. She had to keep her eyes open wide.
The place was sparsely populated with customers. They found chairs at the end of the bar, away from the chatter of the nearest couple, and a bartender brought them menus.
“Are you a white-or a red-wine lady?”
“I like both, but I think I’m in the mood for red tonight.”
“Maybe we could each get a glass and try two different reds?”
“Sure.” She read over the menu, and once they’d made their selections and ordered, Julia took a moment to look around.
The other couples were mostly younger and hipper looking than her and Frank, but she felt at ease.
“So,” she said, “how have you managed to stay single all this time?”
Baby Under the Mistletoe (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 11