“That was Nick?” Kate asked.
Becca nodded.
“And then what? Did he ask for your phone number?”
Becca ran a hand over her eyes. Ugh. This was so embarrassing. Kate knew her well enough to know she didn’t sleep around. In fact, the last time she’d had sex was with her boyfriend two years ago.
“Not exactly. I went back over and rejoined my family, but Rosanna was just hysterical. My dad suggested that it might be a good idea to give her some space. He told me to go get something to eat, which really meant I should disappear for a while. He said he’d call if there were any changes in Victor’s condition.
“So, I walked over to Bentleys across the street from the hospital. I was just going to sit there for a while, get a decent cup of coffee—the stuff at the nurses’ station tasted like dirty water, and it was only lukewarm. I was going to bring some coffee back for my folks and Rosanna. A peace offering. I just wanted to give her a little time.
“And who do you suppose walked into Bentleys?”
“Nick?”
“How did you guess?” Becca laughed, but the sound was dry and brittle. It wasn’t funny. It was embarrassing. Kind of pathetic, really.
“That night Nick and I seemed to be on a trajectory toward each other. I came in and sat down at a booth and ordered my coffee. And for some reason everything that had been bottled up began spilling out. I started crying, and I couldn’t stop. I mean, I wasn’t making a scene or anything, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. The next thing I knew, I saw Nick through the window. He was parking a motorcycle, and a minute later, he was standing by my table, offering me a napkin for my tears.”
“And the rest is history?”
“After he’d told me what the doctor had said, he’d checked on Victor and learned that, though he was banged up pretty badly, he was stable. He was going to be fine. And then the rest is history.”
Even though they were both adults, and she knew Kate wouldn’t think badly of her, Becca couldn’t look at her friend. Instead, she stared straight ahead.
“I’ve never had a one-night stand before,” Becca said. “I do, and look what happens.”
They were in front of Becca’s condo now. Kate killed the engine and reached out and put a hand on Becca’s arm. “Honey, I’m not judging you. You’re a grown woman, and you’re free to do whatever you want with your body. As long as you’re safe—”
“We used protection.” She hadn’t meant to sound so defensive. She took a deep breath and tempered her tone. “Obviously, something went wrong.”
Kate nodded. “What are you going to do now?”
Becca shrank into the shadows as she watched two of her neighbors, Mrs. Milton and Mrs. Cavett, who had the condos on either side of her, extract themselves from Mrs. Milton’s ancient Cadillac Deville. Mrs. M’s late husband had purchased the car brand-new, and she was still so proud of it she’d tell anyone who’d care to listen. If Becca had heard the story once, she’d heard it twenty-five times.
For that matter, both of her neighbors loved to gossip. People affectionately called them the Busybody Twins. Between the two of them, they prided themselves on knowing everything about everyone who lived in the sixty units at Lake Celebration Landing Condos. What they didn’t know, they made up.
Once they learned of Becca’s pregnancy, word would be all over the tiny condo complex.
Becca shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t let other people’s opinions of her matter. But it did matter. She’d always been the good girl, the one people could count on, the community-minded good example.
Now she’d be known as the one who got knocked up.
Well, it is what it is.
She just needed to make sure her baby didn’t grow up feeling like a mistake.
“I’m going to have a baby,” she said. “Tomorrow, Nick is coming over, and we’re going to figure it out.”
* * *
Nick steered his motorcycle into a parking space at the Lake Celebration Landing Condominiums, a neatly landscaped, compact grouping of townhomes on the east side of Celebration.
His gaze picked out unit four. Becca’s place. Glossy ceramic planters with yellow and rust-colored flowers flanked the red front door, which sported a wreath of wheat stalks and small pumpkins—or were those gourds? It was hard to tell. Whatever they were, they screamed fall and hinted that Becca took a lot of pride in her home.
The amber porch light glowed in the dusk. She was waiting for him. Or she was home, at least. Of course she was; she was expecting him, even if last night as he’d signed her discharge papers she hadn’t seemed overly eager to see him. He swung his leg over the bike’s seat and stood, hesitating a moment.
Was a person ever really ready for a conversation like this? Yesterday morning when he’d opened his eyes, he’d had no idea how his life was about to change.
But they had a lot to talk about. He’d made a list. Because he knew if he didn’t write down the important things he might get distracted. Becca Flannigan made him stupid like that.
Nick hated acting stupid. Stupid equaled out of control, and out of control usually ended in disaster.
He reached in the storage console on his bike and pulled out a paper grocery bag. It contained chicken noodle soup and a small box of saltines. Becca was probably sick of bland food by now. But at least it was something. He wasn’t showing up empty-handed, he thought as he knocked on the door above the wreath.
He heard a dog bark and then a soft murmuring he imagined was her way of gently quieting the animal.
Funny, he knew so little about this woman. As he stood on her front porch, it almost felt like a blind date. However, when she answered his knock, and he saw her there, looking much more like herself, or at least more like the woman who had swept him away when they’d met, he felt that attraction, that visceral pull that had hit him hard that first night.
She wore blue jeans and a simple blue blouse that brought out the color of her eyes. She’d pulled her golden-brown hair away from her face with a black headband. She didn’t wear much makeup. The color had returned to her cheeks, and her skin looked so smooth he had to fight the urge to reach out and touch her.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi, Nick.” The dog, a red-and-white, low-to-the-ground model, barked a greeting and jumped up on his leg.
“Hey, there, buddy,” Nick said.
“Priscilla, get down. I’m sorry about that. Just tell her no, and she’ll stand down.”
“It’s okay.” He dropped to one knee, setting the bag down so he could use both hands to scratch the dog behind her ears. The animal showed her appreciation by jumping up again and licking Nick’s nose.
“Priscilla. Stop it,” Becca said. “Mind your manners.”
“She’s a corgi?” Nick asked as he got to his feet.
“Yes. A very spoiled corgi who needs to learn how to listen.”
Nick smiled. “We had a corgi when I was growing up. They’re great dogs.”
“Yes, they are. Come in.”
She stepped back to allow him room to pass. As he stepped into the foyer, he could smell the faint scent of her perfume—something floral—which brought him back to that night. As it had before, it tempted him to lean in closer and breathe in the essence of her. His mind flashed back to how she’d looked as he’d made love to her—soft and sweet and incredibly sexy in an understated way that had driven him mad.
He blinked away the thought and held out the bag.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s for you. Although you probably don’t need it now. You look like you’re feeling better.”
He’d been at the hospital from 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. And then he’d gone home to get some sleep. When he’d called her this afternoon to confirm she was up for meeting this evening
, she’d said she was fine. She’d taken the day off from work to rest. Since they were meeting tonight, it hadn’t made sense to drop it by earlier. Besides, it might’ve given her the wrong idea. That he wanted more than he was prepared to give.
It was all true and valid.
So, why did he feel like a jerk?
“Thanks.” She accepted the grocery bag and peered into it. “Ah, soup and crackers. Thank you. I’m almost completely back to normal, except for being a little tired. But that’s par for the course lately.”
She shrugged and ducked her head as she turned away to shut the door. Her body language made her seem a little vulnerable in the wake of her admission.
Nick had taken a few steps out of the small foyer and into the nicely decorated living room before she caught up with him. The room, which featured shades of greens and blues, had a traditional feel, but it certainly wasn’t old stodgy traditional. It looked as if she’d put a lot of thought into the decor. Still, it wasn’t so decorated that he couldn’t imagine kicking back and watching the Cowboys or the Mavericks on a flat-screen on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
His mind tried to lead him to other things they could do on a lazy afternoon, but he reminded himself why he was here tonight, and the thought was instantly sobering.
“Sit down.” She gestured toward a couple of chairs arranged across from the couch that were upholstered in a blue-and-green geometric pattern. The couch—a big, overstuffed number—looked a hell of a lot more comfortable, but tonight wasn’t about comfort. It was about figuring things out.
He took a seat on the closest chair.
The dog had trotted into the room with a rawhide in her mouth and plopped down next to his feet, ready to do some damage to her chew toy.
“May I get you something to drink?” she asked.
He wondered if she meant wine or beer or something tamer like water or coffee. The only thing they’d had the night they met was coffee. He didn’t even know if she drank.
His gaze drifted over her stomach for a quick moment. Of course she wouldn’t imbibe alcohol now.
“I’m good,” he said. “But thanks.”
She sat on the couch across from him.
“You worked today?” she asked.
So, they were going to make small talk before they got to the heart of the matter. Okay, for a few minutes. His ex-wife had told him he wasn’t good at chitchat. According to her, he wasn’t good at communicating. Period.
It was true; he usually didn’t have the patience for meaningless conversation. What was the point? That’s why he didn’t care for cocktail and dinner parties, and it was a big part of the reason he was divorced now.
That and his tendency to be a workaholic. Delilah had complained a lot about him never being home. He’d told her that was life with an ER doctor. Eventually, she’d left him for his best friend, who also happened to own the lawn service that did their yard.
He wasn’t sure which was sadder...the fact that their breakup had been such a cliché—the only thing that could’ve been worse was if she’d left him for the pool boy—or the overwhelming sense of relief he’d felt after he’d signed the divorce papers.
After that, he’d buried himself in work. Emergency medicine suited him so well. It was fast-paced and involved a revolving door of patients. He could keep it all about work and not get too personal. He’d make sure they were stable and hand them off to their primary care doctor.
It was clean and simple. No need for small talk or building relationships beyond the situation that had brought them into his emergency room.
“I’ve worked twelve-hour shifts for the past five days. Actually, it’s my first night off since I took the job.”
“Are they ganging up on the new guy?” She smiled and her dimples winked at him.
“No, they’ve been so shorthanded that the other doctors haven’t had much time off in a while.”
She was quiet for a moment and he could see the wheels turning in her mind. She glanced at her hands, which were in her lap, before looking back at him.
“Why didn’t you take the job at first?” she asked. “Because they did offer it to you, didn’t they? Please, tell me you didn’t decline because of what happened between us.”
A pretty shade of pink bloomed on her cheeks.
“Wait, don’t answer that,” she said. “It’s a dumb question. Of course you didn’t turn down a job because of me. It’s just that I tried to get in touch with you after I found out I was pregnant, but all the hospital would tell me was that you didn’t work there.”
He nodded. So she’d tried to find him. He wondered if she’d been discreet when she was doing her detective work. No one had told him that a woman claiming to be carrying his child had been there looking for him. Then again, how would an employer break that news to a new hire? And would she really have told a complete stranger why she was looking for him? Not likely.
“I couldn’t justify relocating on the first offer,” he said. “But I could work with their counteroffer. So, just in case you were still wondering, no, my turning it down had nothing to do with you or what happened between us.”
“I didn’t even know your last name,” she said.
Exactly. They hadn’t exchanged much personal information beyond first names. He’d thought that was the way she’d wanted it, and it had made their meeting sexy and exciting.
“So, I take it you’re keeping the baby.”
“Of course I am. I have a good job. This place isn’t a palace, but it’s big enough for a child and me.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The furnace ticked and then clicked on. A car honked somewhere outside.
“Look,” she finally said, “I won’t try to force you to be part of this child’s life. We will be perfectly fine on our own. I just thought you should know.”
“Would you be willing to take a paternity test?”
“Excuse me?”
“A paternity test. Would you take one?”
Her mouth opened and shut before she could utter a word.
It wasn’t an unreasonable request, but the way she glared at him made it seem as if he’d asked her to move to Mars. The look in her eyes cut him deeply.
But he couldn’t go there. Or rather, he couldn’t let her work her way into that soft spot where instinct and feelings lived and eclipsed common sense. Instinct and feelings had never served him well. That’s how they’d gotten themselves into this mess in the first place. He made a mental note not to call the pregnancy—or the baby—a mess. If she was reacting this way to a paternity test, she’d probably smack him if he called the situation a mess.
It was all so new that the pregnancy and baby didn’t seem as if they were one and the same. That his child might be growing inside Becca...
The thought hit him like a punch in the gut. He would not make a good father. He was married to his job. Children were too unpredictable. They were too fragile. He knew for a fact he did not do well with unpredictable and fragile. He’d learned the hard way. The ER was a different type of unpredictable. It was based in science and methodical procedure. He never knew what he’d get one night to the next in the ER, but no matter what was thrown at him, he could follow procedure and tame the chaos. He could fix people.
But being a father? Raising a child? God help him. Or more accurate, God help the poor child.
That’s as far as he could go right now.
He simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it. But there was no sense in getting shell-shocked until he had the facts in hand.
He knew he sounded like a first-class jerk, but the sad truth was he wouldn’t be able to wrap his mind around the pregnancy until he was certain the baby was his.
Yes, she was three months pregnant. Yes, he’d slept with her twelve weeks ago. But they’d been together one nig
ht. He didn’t know her or how many guys she’d slept with or when she’d slept with them. Even though he didn’t want to believe she’d try to saddle him with another man’s kid.
But he didn’t really know her. Because of this, he reminded himself, it wasn’t out of line to ask for proof that he was the father.
“We used a condom,” he said. “I just don’t see how this could’ve happened.”
She squinted at him and did a little head jut.
“Hello, you’re a doctor. You, of all people, should know that condoms aren’t one hundred percent fail-safe.”
He shrugged. “You’re right. They aren’t foolproof. But they do prevent pregnancy most of the time. I need a paternity test for my own peace of mind. It’s not you, it’s me. When you get the test and the results come back, you can tell me I’m a jackass and say I told you so as many times as you want.”
She scoffed and shook her head, obviously disgusted with him.
“Becca, don’t be mad, please.”
“I’m not mad at you. Because even though I don’t sleep around, Nick—before you, I’d never had a one-night stand, and after I got the news, I wished I never had—you couldn’t possibly know me well enough to know that. So I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for sleeping with a man who doesn’t know me well enough to know that.”
Chapter Three
Just as Nick had maintained that he was within his right to ask Becca to take the paternity test, she was justified in feeling offended and irritated by his request.
However, the all-too-rational part of Becca’s brain knew without a doubt how the results would come back. It would prove that Nick was the father. So, why argue?
Why?
Insult and exasperation kicked up again. Do the words it’s the principle of the matter not mean anything to you?
Her heart had broken a little bit after Nick’s visit. Still tender, it tried to overrule that sickeningly reasonable voice in her brain.
She didn’t have to take the test if she didn’t want to. He wasn’t strong-arming her. She didn’t need to prove herself. But wouldn’t it look as if she had something to hide if she held out? The truth would set her free.
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