Finding Perfect

by Susan Mallery

  “He offered to be my pregnancy buddy,” she said, determined to stick to the truth as much as possible.

  “That sounds like him.” Nicole studied her. “You could have walked away from them.”

  “No,” Pia said firmly. “I would never abandon them.” She knew what that felt like.

  “What about giving them to someone else?”

  Pia shook her head. “Crystal left them to me. I may never know why, but I’ll do the best I can with her children. She was my friend.”

  Nicole reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’re nothing like Caro, are you?”

  “I don’t know much about her. What was she like?”

  Nicole released her hand and leaned back in her chair. “Beautiful. Smart. She’s a news anchor.”

  Pia already hated her. “Great.”

  Nicole laughed. “Please don’t tell Raoul, but that was my reaction when I met her. She says all the right things, but I always had the feeling she would rather have been anywhere but with us. I want to say I’m sorry about their divorce, but honestly I was relieved. I’m so glad he found you.”

  “Me, too,” Pia said. Maybe theirs wasn’t the fantasy love every little girl dreamed of, but it was stable and solid and for her, that was going to be enough.

  RAOUL AND HAWK made their way to Jo’s Bar.

  “Brace yourself,” Raoul said as he pulled open the door. “It’s not what you think.”

  Hawk stepped inside, then came to a stop as he stared at the big-screen TVs. Three were on the network soaps and the fourth was on a home shopping channel.

  “What the hell?”

  “Don’t ask,” Raoul told him, then glanced toward the bar. “Jo, could you send over two beers?”

  “Sure. Going into your man cave?”

  “As fast as we can.” He pointed to the doorway off to the side. “Through there. You’ll feel better.”

  The smaller room had a couple of pool tables, a couple of TVs tuned to sports and was a masculine dark blue color. A relief from the pink and lime green Jo had recently painted the main room. For once it was relatively crowded with men, most of whom Raoul didn’t recognize.

  Jo delivered the beers and left them with a bowl of pretzels.

  “Interesting place,” Hawk said, then took a sip of his beer. “You like it here.”

  Raoul nodded.

  “Are you happy?” his former coach asked.

  “Not a real masculine question,” Raoul joked.

  “I’ve been married nearly all my adult life,” Hawk told him. “I can barely hang on to any masculinity. Just don’t tell anyone I talk about my feelings.”

  “I won’t say a word.” Raoul rested his forearms on the table and looked at his mentor. “I’m happy. I didn’t know what to expect when I moved here, but it’s turning out even better than I thought.”

  “You have the camp.”

  Raoul explained how it was being used as a school. “It’ll be a while until they’re able to move back into their old building. We’ll still have camp in the summer, when the local kids are out of school, but we’ve had to put our winter plans on hold.”

  “You okay with that?”

  “I would have liked to get started with the math and science programs sooner rather than later, but they needed a place to have school. I’m not going to put three hundred kids out on the street because I have an ego problem.”

  Hawk slapped him on the shoulder. “I like hearing that. It means I did a good job raising you.”

  “It couldn’t be my sterling character?”

  “Not likely.”

  They laughed and clinked bottles.

  “Pia seems nice,” Hawk said.

  “She is. She was born and raised here. I told you she runs all the festivals in town. It’s a lot of coordinating, working with different people. When the school needed an emergency fundraiser and supply drive, she got it done in a couple of days.” He glanced at his friend. “She’s pregnant.”

  Hawk raised his eyebrows. “You okay with that?”

  “Yeah. I’m happy.” He hesitated. “The babies aren’t mine.”

  Hawk picked up his beer bottle but didn’t drink. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Tell me about it.”

  Raoul explained about Crystal and the embryos.

  “That’s a lot to take on,” Hawk said when he’d finished. “Responsibility, time, money. They’re not going to be yours.”

  Raoul didn’t fall for it. “They’ll be mine. I’ll be there when they’re born and see them through their whole lives. How could they not be mine?”

  Hawk didn’t look convinced. “You doing this because of Caro? Are you secretly figuring it won’t be as big a problem because they’re not your biological children? You’re wrong—they’ll be yours in every sense of the word. You won’t be able to hold back with them.”

  “I don’t want to hold back.”

  “You sure about that?”

  It was a question Raoul had wrestled with since finding out about Pia’s plans for the embryos. He’d meant it when he’d promised to be there for her, to be a real father to those children.

  “I want to be their father. I want to be involved with them, the way you were there for me. You might have come into my life when I was in high school, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t shape everything about me. I can do this. I want to do this.”

  Hawk took a long drink of his beer. “Kids aren’t easy under the best of circumstances. Triplets. That’s a load and a half.”

  Raoul grinned. “It’s probably three loads.”

  “Smart-ass.” Hawk shook his head. “You sure about this? Once you commit, there’s no turning back.”

  “I’m sure.” It was what he wanted.

  “Make sure you get married for the right reasons.”

  Raoul could do the translation. Hawk wanted him to be sure he was marrying Pia because he loved her and couldn’t live without her. Not because it was the right thing to do.

  It was the only secret he would keep from his friend. The truth was, not loving Pia was part of the appeal. He’d been in love once, had married Caro and had paid the price. Never again, he’d promised himself, and he meant it.

  “Pia’s the one,” he said, sidestepping the issue.

  “Then I’m happy for you.”

  Raoul couldn’t tell if Hawk believed him or was simply going along with things. In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter. Whatever the outcome, Hawk would be there for him, just like he would be there for the babies Pia carried.

  PIA LOOKED UP FROM HER desk to find Charity Jones-Golden standing in the doorway.

  “You’re busy,” her friend said.

  “I have the auction tonight, followed by the dinner-dance in a week. Busy doesn’t cover it. Hysterical is closer. In fact, I think hysterical is pretty accurate.”

  “So you probably don’t have time to go shopping.”

  Pia perked up. “I certainly do. In fact a little retail therapy is exactly what I need. On the way back, I’ll grab a sandwich to eat at my desk and call it lunch.”

  Charity smiled. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

  “Mostly I’m doing it for myself, but you can pretend it’s about you if it makes you feel better.” Pia saved her computer program, then closed it, grabbed her purse and stood. “What are we shopping for? Jewelry? Furniture? A vacation in the south of France?”

  “Maternity clothes.”

  Pia plopped down on her seat, her gaze settling on her friend’s growing tummy. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

  “I need to buy some things, and you’re way better at the stylish thing than I am. I want to look good as I approach my whale days. Or as good as I can. ‘Help me, Obi Wan. You’re my only hope.’”

  “Oh, please. Don’t try Star Wars on me. I’m too young to remember anything but the remastered versions, and so are you.”

  Charity continued to stare at her, all wide-eyed and pleading.

  “Fine,” Pia grumbled, standing again
. “I’ll help you buy your stupid maternity clothes.”

  “The point of bringing you along is so they’re not stupid. Besides, you might want to get a few things for yourself. It took me a while to pop out of my regular clothes, but I’m not carrying triplets.”

  “Thanks for mentioning that.”

  “Anytime.”

  Pia followed her into the hallway, then locked the door. As they made their way down the stairs, she had to admit that Charity was right…sort of. Lately it had seemed her pants were getting snug, and she would swear her breasts had gone up a full cup size. She was starting to spill out of her bras. In the few weeks between now and looking like a woman who had swallowed a beach ball, she could probably make some great money posing for breast-enhancement ads.

  “How are you feeling?” Charity asked. “Any morning sickness?”

  “I’m fine as long as I stick to crackers for the first hour. Then I can pretty much eat what I want. Of course, based on the list of things I should be eating, all those fruits and vegetables, the protein and dairy, there’s not much room left for empty calories.” She sighed. “I miss empty calories.”

  “Me, too. And coffee. I would kill for a glass of wine.” She glanced at Pia. “Do you think it’s wrong to bring a saucy little Merlot into the recovery room?”

  “I think they’d frown on it. Plus, won’t you be breastfeeding?”

  They reached the street and turned left. There was an exclusive maternity boutique right next to Jenel’s Gems.

  “Breastfeeding is in the plan,” Charity admitted. “Are you?”

  “I haven’t gotten that far,” Pia admitted. “I’m one breast short, to begin with, so I’m not sure how it would work. I’m not really doing a lot of reading yet. I have time.”

  “Of course you do. It’s nice that you’re not totally obsessed with your pregnancy. The first two months, I couldn’t stop reading about it, or talking about it. I became one of those horrible, self-absorbed friends who only cared about herself.”

  “I remember,” Pia said, her voice teasing.

  Charity gave her a mock glare. “A true friend wouldn’t mention my slip in judgment.”

  “A true friend would have given you a good slap if it had continued much longer.”

  Charity laughed.

  Pia joined in but was pleased when the conversation changed topic. In truth, the reason she hadn’t started doing a lot of reading about her pregnancy had nothing to do with being calm and everything to do with the fact that she still didn’t feel connected to the babies growing inside of her. They were an intellectual exercise, not an emotional bond. She knew she was pregnant, but those were just words.

  In time things would get better, she told herself. From finding out about the embryos to implantation had only been a matter of a few weeks. It made sense that she would need time to catch up emotionally. At least that was the plan.

  “Josh keeps saying we have to register.” Charity grimaced. “I’ve gone online where they have those lists of what is ‘essential,’ and it’s enough to freak me out. They talk about things I’ve never heard of. And some other stuff that’s really weird. Do you know there’s a device that keeps baby wipes warm? You drop in a container of wipes and it keeps them toasty. The reviews say not to get it because then the kids scream when you’re away from home and have to use a cold baby wipe.”

  Pia felt the first hint of fear. “I have to make a decision about baby wipes? Can’t I just buy what’s on sale?”

  “Sure, but then do you heat them? It’s incredible. I swear, if you took along everything that they said, you wouldn’t need a baby bag so much as a camel. And you’ll have three times that amount.”

  Pia felt a little light-headed. “We should talk about something else,” she murmured.

  “And the diapers. Do you know how many diapers babies go through in an average week?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Eighty to a hundred.”

  Charity kept talking, but Pia was too busy doing the math. With triplets, she could be looking at two hundred and forty to three hundred diapers in a week. If she used disposable ones, wouldn’t she be personally responsible for any overflow in the Fool’s Gold landfill?

  Three hundred diapers? How many were in a box? Could she fit that many in her car? Was Raoul going to have to buy a semi to bring in supplies?

  “That’s pretty.” Charity had stopped in front of the window of the maternity store. A pregnant mannequin wore a sophisticated burgundy pantsuit, with a fly-away-style jacket. The fabric was a high-quality knit that skimmed the body and held its shape but would probably wash like a dream.

  “The color would be great for you,” Pia said. “With your light hair.”

  “I wonder if the set comes with a skirt. Or I could get a black skirt and a patterned top. That would give me a lot of work outfits.” She glanced at Pia. “Or am I being too matchy-matchy?”

  “You’re doing just fine. Let’s go in and see what they have.”

  The store was larger than it looked from the outside. There was plenty of light, lots of mirrors and racks of clothes set up by type. In the back, an archway led into a massive separate store that sold everything baby. Pia caught sight of a stroller and crib before carefully averting her eyes. She was here to shop for her friend, not freak herself out. Later, when she could sit down, she would think about all the equipment babies apparently required and try not to hyperventilate. And maybe she would take Denise Hendrix up on her offer to explain what exactly the mother of a triplet needed three of and what she could avoid buying in bulk.

  “Hi, ladies,” a salesclerk called. “How are you doing?”

  “Great,” Charity said. “I’m browsing first.”

  “Let me know if I can help.”

  Pia wandered toward the dress racks. Maybe dresses would be easier, as they would give her more breathing room—so to speak. But as it got colder, she preferred pants or nice jeans. Plus, did she really want to deal with maternity tights or nylons?

  She crossed over to the jeans and grimaced when she saw a very unattractive elastic kind of band thing stuck in front. Was that what she had to look forward to?

  “Look at this,” Charity said, pointing to a mannequin. “It’s a tummy sleeve.” She leaned in and read the sign. “Oh, this is great. It helps with transition. When you’re too big for your regular pants but maternity ones are too big for you. It covers the open zipper.” She grinned. “I wish I’d thought of that. You should get one.”

  What Pia should get is out of the store. She wasn’t ready for any of this. Not yet. She was barely pregnant and she still hadn’t accepted she was having one baby, let alone three.

  She watched Charity collect several items of clothing, then waited while her friend tried them on.

  “You look adorable in everything,” Pia told her.

  It was the truth. Charity genuinely glowed. She was pleasantly rounded, blissfully happy and excited about being a mother. Pia felt like a crabby fraud.

  “You don’t want to pick out anything?” Charity asked as she paid for her clothing.

  Pia shook her head. “I’m not ready.”

  “I would guess with triplets, you’re going to have to get ready soon. Is this where I ask you to come with me next door to look at furniture and you refuse?”

  “I’ll look.”

  Maybe poking around in a baby store would help. If nothing else, she could look for a book on multiple births. The books she had at home only had a chapter or two on multiples.

  They walked through to the baby store. There were cribs and changing tables, mobiles and teddy bear lamps.

  “Come see,” Charity told her, pointing to the left. “There’s a bedroom set I really love. But it’s pretty girly and if we have a boy, I’m not sure it’s appropriate.”

  Pia followed her friend to a display done in pale wood. The small nightstand, crib, dresser and changing table were all carved with fairies and angels, the edges scalloped. Pink-an
d-gold drawer pulls sparkled with a touch of glitter.

  “Too girly doesn’t describe it,” Pia said with a grin. “I think it’s great, but you need to make sure you’re having a girl before you get this.”

  “It’s too over the top for a boy?”

  “It will give Josh a heart attack, and that’s the last thing you want.”

  “I know.” Charity sighed. “I had planned not to know the sex of the baby until the birth. I thought that would be fun. I’ve always been such a planner. This seemed like the ultimate in letting go.”

  “Then you’re going to have to let go on the furniture selection,” Pia told her. “This is a whole new dimension of girly.”

  “You’re right,” Charity said, sounding reluctant. “What are you going to do?”

  Pia turned to her. “About what?”

  “Knowing the gender of the babies.”

  “I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “From what I know about IVF, you’re going to have fraternal rather than identical triplets,” Charity said. “Three embryos mean they fertilized three different eggs. That could make things interesting. Does Raoul want to know?”

  They hadn’t talked about it, Pia realized. In fact they hadn’t talked much about the babies at all. She didn’t know anything about his thoughts on children, except he wanted them. What were his hopes and dreams for these babies? Did he spank or prefer time-outs? Would he want to know if they were having boys or girls?

  She put her hand on the dresser to steady herself. There was more. They hadn’t talked about financials or their goals for their lives. She didn’t know what religion he was, if he opened his presents Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. They hadn’t even discussed which way to load a dishwasher.

  How could she have agreed to marry someone she didn’t know at all? Shouldn’t they have a plan to get to know each other? Of course, she was the same person who had blithely had her friend’s babies implanted into her body without considering the future.

  She was going to be the mother of three children. She was going to have to raise them for the next eighteen years. Longer if housing prices kept going up. She could barely take care of herself. There was the whole humiliating relationship failure with Jake, the cat.