“The court would allow that?”
“Courts don’t get involved in family matters until someone gets them involved. If she truly has no interest in raising this baby, this could be as simple as her giving him to you—the father—and leaving.”
He wasn’t an attorney, but he could connect the dots to see the picture that was forming.
“But where’s my protection in that arrangement? If she could give him to me without legal intervention, what’s to stop her from coming back one day and staking a claim to him?”
The woman had bypassed security and picked a lock to gain entry into a premises she knew she was forbidden to access. Despite her reasons, that level of impulsivity proved she could change her mind at any time.
“She could do that anyway,” Sully said, “whether she signed legal documents or not.”
“But if she’d signed the documents, she’d be starting from a weaker bargaining position.”
“True.”
That wasn’t his only concern.
“Once these criminal charges are sorted out, could she go to another state and put the baby up for adoption without my knowledge?”
Sully shrugged both shoulders. “You’re going further into an area I’m not familiar with. But I do know this: courts will not terminate your rights without hearing from you. If India wants to give the baby up for adoption, she’ll need your consent. Unless she lies and says she doesn’t know who the father is or that she’s exhausted all avenues to contact the father and was unable to.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” Mike said, without hesitation.
“Then I’ll find you a referral for the best family law attorney in the bay area.”
After Sully left, Mike called on years of experience to shelve the concerns in his personal life and focus on his duties. He drafted a memo requiring Human Resources to revise and resubmit their training module for new hires in the finance department and reviewed a proposal from their head of Marketing about opening brick and mortar retail spaces.
He loved his work, aware that he was one of a fortunate few to be successful pursuing an enterprise that nourished the many facets of his personality. Being COO fed his need for order, as every department touched base with his office. The internal workings of Computronix were his responsibility and Mike ensured the company ran like an Olympic athlete.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, he was challenged creatively, as he possessed the ability to devise products and services that could grow their brand and their company. That freedom nursed his muse with regards to OTTo and digital entertainment, and he truly believed the idea would take off.
Evan beeped him. “Ms. Thompson is here to see you.”
His assistant had barely uttered the words before Skylar sauntered into his office, smartly attired in a black business suit and a light gray blouse.
He stood, unsettled by her presence in his changed environment, and shrugged into his jacket. “What are you doing here? You should be preparing for your trip to New York.”
She offered her cheek for his kiss and he complied, her familiar, expensive floral scent grounding him. This was the life he’d planned to lead. This was the woman who’d be by his side.
“I decided to stop by before I left. You sounded odd during our phone call this morning. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
It was a thoughtful gesture from a woman who was successful in her own right. The other half of his power couple.
And quite unlike the hippie chick now carrying his baby.
He guided her over to the seating area. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“San Pellegrino,” she said, placing her expensive handbag on the coffee table and shifting toward him, crossing her legs at the ankle.
He placed the order.
Yesterday his life was progressing as planned, and he’d assumed this smart, beautiful woman would play a prominent part in his future. However, a minor subplot was angling for major attention, leaving him unsure of how to interact with her.
Somewhere Fate was laughing her ass off.
“So, New York. Are you excited?”
Smooth, Mike. Not awkward at all.
She laughed. “I spend several months a year there. You know I keep a penthouse on the Upper East Side?”
“I didn’t.”
She leaned toward him and brushed the back of his hand. “Maybe the next time I go for business, you can come with me to see it?”
He straightened—breaking the contact—and nodded, noncommittally. “I thought our meeting went well yesterday.”
She pursed glossy pink lips. “It did. Dad was very impressed with your thinking and your strategy.”
“I hope he was impressed because it’s an innovative idea and not because we’re dating,” he said, still smarting from the insults to his integrity.
“It’s a first-class idea, but it’s also true your connection to me gives you an advantage. You know we’re very particular about our business associations.”
Evan knocked briefly and entered, carrying the requested beverage. He sat a glass on the table in front of Skylar and filled it halfway with the sparkling mineral water before leaving.
She tilted her head, assessing Mike.
“Something’s off,” she finally said. “It’s funny—I was certain you were going to propose last night. But then you canceled our date and acted irritated when I questioned you about it. Are we still on the same page?”
“Of course we are.” Hadn’t he praised her directness the day before? “Canceling our date couldn’t be avoided, but I have been thinking about us and where we’re going.”
“Me, too,” she said. “And I think I’ve been clear that I see us together.”
So had he. But he wouldn’t act until he settled the issue of whether or not Indi was carrying his child.
She trailed her finger around the lip of the glass. “Are you still angry because of our breakup last year?”
Anger didn’t best describe his feelings about their split. He’d been annoyed. Her announcement had left him temporarily adrift, causing him to question the certainty of a plan ten years in the making.
And then he’d spent the weekend with Indi.
“I’ve known I was going to run TTL from the time I was a little girl. My father groomed me for it. Meeting you and having everything fall into place the way it did . . . I needed to make sure this was the right step to take,” she said, appearing to carefully choose her words. “After some time apart, I realized my mistake. We want the same things. We’re invested in our careers and we understand the importance of societal networking. We make a great team.”
Valid points he’d made himself.
“And while we’re not in love, our time together has been pleasurable.” She squeezed his arm. “I’m just thankful you forgave my momentary crisis of faith. We can put all of that behind us and focus on this deal that will take our companies to the next level.”
It was exactly what he’d wanted to hear.
Yesterday.
“Does a family figure into your plans?”
Her countenance shifted from persuasive to perplexed.
“You mean children?” At his nod, she responded, “I don’t know. I guess I always thought about having a child, but sometime in the future. Definitely no time soon. We’ll be too busy becoming one of San Francisco’s top power couples. And that reminds me . . .”
She reached into her bag and pulled out her tablet.
“I had my assistant pull the society calendar for the next few months and I’ve picked out three events we should attend.”
That was the type of thinking and planning he wanted from his life partner.
“ . . . The Ribbon Legacy gala is being held at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art at the end of the month . . .”
Someone who knew he’d be investing the majority of his time, effort, and passion into building Computronix’s brand and market share.
“ . . . We’ll definitely need to make an appearance at the Gala under the Stars at the California Academy of Sciences in May, although, seriously, it’s like a large aquarium . . .”
Who appreciated that the work he did off Computronix’s campus could be just as vital as the work he did while on it.
“ . . . The Benefit for Our Bridges isn’t the most prestigious, but it’s an up and comer, so being one of the first to recognize it will make us appear innovative and at the forefront of trends, which can only be good for both of our businesses . . .”
Not a woman whose idea of networking involved an emoticon-filled group text to her previous coworkers around the country regarding the latest Hollywood scandal.
Skylar closed the cover of her tablet. “Those were from the spring and summer functions. The fall and winter invitations will go out starting in July.” A buzzing sound pierced the ensuing silence, startling Skylar. “Oh. That’s the alarm I set on my phone. I only had a few minutes; I’ve got to get going.”
She grabbed her purse and stood, and he followed suit. She’d left her drink untouched. Resting a hand against his chest, she pressed her lips to his. In her heels, she was almost as tall as Indi.
Dammit.
He slipped an arm around Skylar’s waist and pulled her close, sweeping his tongue into her mouth.
Disappointed, he pulled away. Nice, but no comparison.
“I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. We can continue this conversation then.”
A short time ago, two weeks had seemed an interminable waiting period to find out if TTL was interested in his business proposal. Now, he could use that time to learn the status of his parenthood. If he wasn’t the father, he’d follow through with his original plan to ask Skylar to marry him.
But if he was . . .
His pounding heart stole the moisture from his mouth.
His life was about to veer wildly off course and venture into uncharted territory.
Chapter Seven
IF THERE WASN’T a good possibility that she’d end up back in the county jail, Indi would’ve left San Francisco the moment Mike dropped her off after their meeting with Viv and headed back to his office.
She swung her legs against the examination table, nibbling on a thumbnail.
“Whither thou goest, I will go.”
The Bible? Really? She was surprised both of them hadn’t been struck by lightning.
The nerve of that man. She’d done the right thing. She was pregnant with his child and she thought he had the right to know. And for her honesty, he held her hostage.
Okay, so maybe the nausea had forced her hand. She would’ve waited much later to tell him about her pregnancy.
And there was the slight possibility that he wasn’t holding her hostage. She had to stay in the city, which is what she’d planned to do anyway.
But when she thought she’d be staying to spend time with Chelsea, she’d imagined being independent, free to remain or leave at her leisure. Because of the baby and the money Mike had put up for her, he was acting like her own personal ankle monitoring system. She hadn’t been forced to stay anywhere since she left her last foster home at sixteen, and the confinement made her itchy beneath her skin.
She should’ve told him it was the flu.
“You’re poking your lips out and scrunching your face,” Mike reported from his seat next to the door. “Are you in pain?”
Oh, she had his pain, but she was saved from answering by a short knock. A woman wearing green scrubs entered, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail.
“Sorry for the delay, but I had an emergency C-section. I’m Dr. Kimball. And you’re India?”
Indi held out her hand. “India Shaw, yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is Mike Black. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”
“When my receptionist told me of your request, I was happy to accommodate you.” Dr. Kimball rolled the stool from the corner and sat on it, positioning herself near the foot of the exam table. “Your sister mentioned you several times during our consult.”
“You made quite an impression on her as well. When I found myself in San Francisco and in need of an ob-gyn, I knew who to call.”
“You don’t have to butter me up, you already have the appointment,” Dr. Kimball said, her blue eyes kind. She glanced at Mike and then back to Indi. “Now, how can I help you?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Dr. Kimball smiled. “I figured.”
Heat bloomed beneath her skin. “I mean, I haven’t seen a doctor yet, so it hasn’t been confirmed, but I’ve been sick for the past couple of months, so I’m either pregnant or it’s a fourteen-hundred-hour stomach bug.”
The doctor laughed. “You do not have a stomach bug. When my nurse triaged you, she asked for a urine sample. We used it to run a pregnancy test and the result was positive. So, congratulations, you are pregnant.”
She’d known it—had taken half a dozen pregnancy tests on her own—but hearing the doctor verify it . . . She looked at Mike, his image blurry through the shimmer of her unshed tears.
“It says on your chart that your last menstrual cycle was mid-December. That would make you fourteen weeks pregnant with a conception date around the first of January.” Dr. Kimball stood and inched around the side of the exam table. “Lie back and relax.”
“That’s what he said.” Indi’s eyes widened. Had she said that aloud?
Dr. Kimball’s smirk and Mike’s furrowed brow indicated that Indi had indeed made the inappropriate joke. Thankfully, it was ignored and the doctor continued her exam, pressing on areas of Indi’s lower stomach. “You’ve made it through your first trimester. If your pregnancy is like most, the nausea should settle down and you’ll start to get your appetite back.”
Mike rose to stand against the opposite wall, powerfully gorgeous in a charcoal-gray suit, his blue shirt accentuating his opalescent eyes. “Isn’t that when it’s safe to tell people because the chances of miscarrying are reduced?”
Indi looked at him in surprise. Had he been doing his research? She found it difficult to believe information about pregnancy viability had been hanging out in his mental vault. It wasn’t the kind of knowledge single men usually possessed, like which person won the World Series last year and Michael Jordan’s batting average.
Dr. Kimball nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Many pregnancies are lost early, before a woman even realizes she conceived. After the third month, the chance of having a miscarriage drops to less than five percent.”
Buoyancy dispelled the heaviness she hadn’t known she was toting. What was her problem? She wasn’t raising this child. In fact, were she honest, an early term miscarriage would’ve rescued this situation. And yet there was no denying the relief that streamed through her at hearing the odds of the baby’s continued existence.
“I’ll need to get a Pap smear.” Dr. Kimball went to the door and asked for assistance. Once the nurse entered, the doctor engaged the stirrups at the end of the table and helped Indi place her feet in the metal holders. Dr. Kimball pulled a tray of instruments closer. “Slide down and let your knees fall open.”
Mike started, pushing away from the wall. “Wait, what’s that?”
“This?” Dr. Kimball held up the familiar steel tool that looked like a duckbill attached to a hand grip. “It’s called a speculum.”
He swallowed. “You’re putting that in her?”
The doctor’s voice was amused. “That’s typically how it’s done.”
“Will it hurt her?”
His concern warmed her.
“I’ll be fine,” Indi said, offering him a gentle smile.
After a few minutes, Dr. Kimball tapped
her knee. “All done. You can sit up.”
Mike collapsed into his seat. “I would like to never see that again.”
Dr. Kimball stripped off her gloves and threw them away. “You won’t.” She paused. “Not until baby number two.”
“Then he won’t,” Indi injected into the awkward stillness.
The nurse took the tray with the tools and samples and left the room. Dr. Kimball washed her hands. “Since this is your first doctor’s visit after conception, I’m assuming you haven’t been taking prenatal vitamins?”
Indi shook her head.
“You’ll need to remedy that immediately. And for future reference, waiting fourteen weeks before you see a doctor is not advised.” Dr. Kimball made a note on the chart then named a brand of vitamin. “That’s what we usually recommend, but any over-the-counter brand will do. Just make sure it has 1,000 mcg of folic acid per dose.”
“We’ll get some immediately,” Mike said.
“Good. Do you have an exercise routine?”
Indi nodded. “I’ve practiced yoga for years.”
“Yoga can be extremely beneficial during pregnancy, but you’ll have to take precautions, especially since you’re in your second trimester. My nurse will give you a brochure that spells out the adjustments you’ll need to make.”
Indi had taken her first yoga class in college, believing it to be an easy, undemanding way to fulfill her physical education requirement. Instead, she’d discovered a mental, physical, and spiritual practice that kept her sane, fit, and grounded in the transitory nature of her life. Over the years, her workouts evolved from gentle and meditative to fast-paced and intense, and she’d worried she’d have to give it up during her pregnancy. She was grateful to learn she wouldn’t lose the ability to call on her center of focus, especially when she’d need it now more than ever.
“Before you leave,” Dr. Kimball was saying, “we’ll draw some blood so we can run tests to identify your blood type, check for anemia, and rule out HIV and sexually transmitted infections.”
Along Came Love Page 8