0373659504 (R)

by Brenda Harlen

  “Don’t bet your college fund,” Justin warned the boy. “She’ll clean you right out.”

  Dylan looked up and grinned. “Nah, I’m winning.”

  “Really?” He looked at Maura, who was scowling at the cards in her hand.

  “Beginner’s luck,” she insisted.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t bet your college fund,” he told her.

  “We’re playing for Rayquaza,” she told him.

  “I don’t know what that is, but it sounds dangerous.”

  Maura giggled. “You’re so funny, Uncle Justin.”

  Of course, the uncle designation was more honorary than accurate, but he’d always enjoyed being “Uncle Justin” to his cousins’ kids. There were quite a few of them now, and they were all underfoot today.

  “The house seems so big most of the time,” his father said, coming up to Justin and offering him a beer. “And then we invite the family over, and your mother starts to fret about where we’re going to put everyone.”

  He accepted the bottle. “Thanks. There is a full house today.”

  “Your mother thought your thirty-fifth birthday warranted a party.”

  “I wish she’d told me.”

  “She obviously told you something to get you here,” John noted.

  “She said we were going to have a family dinner. And cake.”

  “It is family,” his father assured him. “And there will be cake.”

  “Who’s the woman with Tristyn and Daniel?” He nodded in the direction of a third person he hadn’t noticed earlier.

  “Emmaline Carpenter.”

  “Who?”

  “Veronica Carpenter’s granddaughter,” John said, as if that should explain everything.

  “She’s not family,” he noted.

  “Well, no,” his father admitted.

  Justin sighed. “I guess that means Mom’s matchmaking again.”

  “She thinks that thirty-five is time for you to get serious and settle down.”

  “Why doesn’t she believe that I could get my own date if I wanted one?”

  “Because you never bring home any of the women you date.”

  “Because bringing a woman home to meet the parents is the quickest way to give her the wrong idea,” Justin pointed out.

  “Just talk to the girl,” John urged. “You might find you actually like her.”

  He was sure that she was a perfectly nice woman, and she was undoubtedly attractive—but she wasn’t Avery.

  “Right now, I’m going to talk to Mom,” Justin said.

  He found Ellen in the kitchen, where she was sprinkling mozzarella on top of a tray of cannelloni. She wiped her hands on her apron before she enveloped him in her arms. “There’s my birthday boy.”

  He winced visibly, making his aunt Susan laugh.

  “I’m thirty-five, Mom,” he reminded her.

  “As if I didn’t know,” she admonished. “I was there, you know. In fact, I’m the one who gave birth to you—after twenty-eight hours of labor.”

  “Ah, the ‘twenty-eight hours of labor’ story,” Tristyn said, having followed him into the kitchen to grab a handful of juice boxes from the refrigerator, no doubt for the various kids spread around the house. “As much a birthday tradition as candles on the cake.”

  Susan shooed her daughter out of the kitchen.

  “It was thirty-six hours with Braden,” he reminded his mother.

  She nodded. “But only six with Ryan.”

  “Are you implying that he was the easy one?”

  She laughed. “None of you were easy. Not during labor or all of the years since. But you were worth every minute of every day.” She opened the oven to check on the chicken drumsticks and roasted potatoes.

  “I’m not sure thirty-five is really a milestone that warrants all of this,” he said cautiously. “Not that I don’t appreciate it.”

  “Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get the whole family together,” she said. “It’s been a long time since everyone’s been able to coordinate their schedules.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a whole five weeks since Jordyn and Marco’s wedding.”

  She swatted at him with a tea towel. “Andrew and Rachel weren’t at the wedding,” she reminded him. “They were in Florida visiting Rachel’s parents.”

  “Well, you managed to get everyone here today—which hopefully means you also got a really big cake.”

  “I should have guessed that would be your biggest concern and not realize that we’re still missing someone.”

  “I didn’t actually do a head count, but I can’t think of anyone who’s missing—aside from Rob,” he said, referring to Lauryn’s husband, who always seemed to be at the Locker Room—the sporting goods store he owned. “But I figured he was working.”

  “That’s what Lauryn said,” she confirmed. “And I was referring to your sister.”

  “You invited Nora?”

  “Of course I invited Nora.”

  He didn’t think there was any “of course” about it considering that the woman she so easily referred to as his sister had been born as a result of his father’s extramarital affair during a difficult period in his parents’ marriage.

  “Does Dad know that you invited her?”

  “I wouldn’t have done so without talking to him first,” she chided. “There’s been more than enough secrecy about his daughter.”

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  His mother sighed. “She thanked me for the invitation but said that she had other plans.”

  “She came to see me a few weeks ago,” Justin admitted.

  “She did?” Ellen sounded surprised but not displeased by this revelation. “Why?”

  “She’s applied for a PT opening at Mercy and wanted a letter of recommendation.”

  “Did you give it to her?”

  “I did one better—I introduced her to some of the staff in the physio department. She starts on Monday.”

  Ellen smiled. “You have a good heart, Justin.”

  He slid an arm across his mother’s shoulders. “I wonder where I get that from.”

  “You need someone to share that heart of yours,” she told him.

  “Are you really going to start this again?”

  “Nate told me that you’re seeing someone—another doctor. Is this true?”

  He should have known his cousin wouldn’t be able to resist telling someone about Avery, but he’d hoped Nate had enough sense not to open his big mouth to Justin’s mother. “I’m not sure our relationship is that clearly defined,” he hedged.

  “You should have invited her to come tonight.”

  “Then you would have had to uninvite Mrs. Carpenter’s granddaughter.”

  His mother flushed. “All I did was ask a young woman who didn’t have any other plans to join us for dinner.”

  “Would you have asked her if she was married?”

  “If she was married, I would have told her to bring her husband, too.”

  Which, knowing his mother, was entirely possible.

  “I invited Josh Slater, too,” she pointed out, referring to Daniel’s business partner in Garrett/Slater Racing.

  “And I’ll bet you’ve arranged the seating so that he’s beside Tristyn.”

  She neither confirmed nor denied it, saying only, “Get out of here now so we can finish up and get dinner on the table.”

  * * *

  Avery’s stomach was being uncooperative again. Of course, staring at Justin’s phone number might have had something to do with the nerves tangled into knots in her belly.

  She had to call him—and she was going to. She just wanted to be sure that she wasn’t going to throw up in the middle of their conversation before she dialed.

  She looked at the stick on the table—at the two parallel lines in the narrow window. She’d bought the test because she was still feeling fatigued and occasionally queasy, but she’d expected it to rule out a pregnancy. Seeing those two lines... She wasn’t
sure how she felt, but she knew that she wanted her baby.

  Not just her baby, but hers and Justin’s. And if her own emotions were in turmoil, she couldn’t begin to imagine how he might react when he learned that he was going to be a father. He’d made it clear that he would be involved if there was a baby, but he’d also been obviously relieved when she told him that they’d dodged the bullet.

  Now she had to tell him that she’d been wrong.

  And she had to be prepared for the fact that those words would change everything for both of them.

  She took a few more slow, steady breaths and punched in his number.

  She could hear voices in the background when he connected the call. Voices and laughter.

  “I’m calling at a bad time,” she realized.

  “No, it’s okay,” Justin said. “It’s good to hear from you.”

  He sounded as if he meant it, which only made her feel guiltier about the reason for her call.

  “What’s up?”

  “I was hoping we could get together, to talk about some things,” she admitted. “But obviously you’re busy so—”

  “I’d say ‘stuck’ rather than busy,” he told her. “But I should be able to get away in about an hour, two at the most.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Family birthday party,” he said. “Did you want to meet somewhere or do you want me to stop by your place?”

  “Why don’t you come here?” she suggested. “That way it doesn’t matter if you’re an hour—or two.”

  “I could probably get away sooner, if it’s important,” he offered.

  It was more than important—it was terrifying and exhilarating and life changing. But all she said to Justin was, “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  She disconnected and set the phone back in the cradle. Only then did she realize how much her hands were shaking. Now that she’d made the call, there was no going back.

  But she had an hour—or maybe two—and no idea how to pass the time. Her apartment was clean, her laundry done, the dinner dishes washed up and put away. She tried to read, but she couldn’t focus on the words on the page. She turned on the television, but nothing held her attention there, either.

  She picked up the plastic stick again and stared at the two narrow lines in the window.

  Yes, from this point forward, everything was going to change.

  * * *

  Avery immediately released the lock on the door when Justin buzzed, as if she’d been waiting for him. He’d been surprised by her call—even more so by the invitation to stop by her apartment, especially in light of the way their previous conversation had ended.

  He wanted to believe that she’d reconsidered, that she’d realized it was pointless to continue to ignore the attraction between them and had decided to explore it instead. Yeah, it was probably wishful thinking on his part—or maybe it was his birthday wish come true.

  “What’s that?” she asked, when she opened the door and saw the plate in his hands.

  “Birthday cake.”

  “You took the leftover cake?”

  “It’s my cake,” he told her, stepping into the foyer.

  “I didn’t realize—” She dragged a hand through her hair. “The birthday party was for you?”

  He nodded. “Apparently thirty-five is some kind of milestone in my mother’s world, so she invited the whole clan—aunts, uncles, cousins, spouses and kids.”

  “Sounds...fun,” she said, a little dubiously.

  “It was fun. And chaotic. And lucky that there was any leftover cake, which I brought to share with you.”

  “I should refuse, but I have no willpower when it comes to chocolate cake.”

  “I thought your weakness was cookies ’n’ cream ice cream,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

  “Okay, so I have more than one weakness,” she admitted. “Do you want a glass of milk with your cake?”

  “I’d rather have coffee—if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” she told him.

  She took a mug out of the cupboard, popped a pod into her home brewing system and pressed the button. Her movements were usually smooth and effortless—indicative of a woman who was confident in herself and her abilities. But she seemed a little jumpy today, and unwilling to hold his gaze. It was as if she was anxious about something, and her nervousness was starting to make him nervous.

  Justin found plates and forks in the cupboard, and divided the slab of cake into two pieces. Avery carried his mug of coffee and her glass of milk to the table.

  “Cream? Sugar?”

  He shook his head. “Black is fine.”

  They sat at the dining room table and ate their dessert. Actually, he ate his while Avery—despite her declared weakness for chocolate cake—picked gingerly at hers.

  “So, why did you call?” he asked, swallowing his last bite.

  Avery’s fork slipped from her grasp and clattered against her plate. She pushed her half-eaten dessert away and picked up a napkin, her attention focused on wiping each and every finger. “Maybe we should do this another time.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s your birthday and there’s probably somewhere else you’d rather be.”

  “I want to be here, Avery,” he said patiently. “I want to know what’s on your mind.”

  She folded her napkin in half once, and then again. “I just wanted to follow up our earlier conversation...about what happened...on New Year’s.”

  She wasn’t the type to meander through a conversation rather than get straight to the point, but she was meandering now. “What—exactly—requires follow-up?”

  “Well...it, um, turns out that we didn’t, um...dodge the bullet.”

  It took him a minute to figure out what she was saying, probably because his brain didn’t want to figure it out. They’d had a close call, she’d assured him he was “off the hook.”

  And he’d been grateful—so incredibly grateful—because he knew there was no way he was ready to be a father. Now, he felt that hook slice deep into him, lodging painfully in his gut.

  “You’re...pregnant?”

  She nodded and pulled a narrow plastic stick out of her pocket to show him the two lines in the window.

  “You’re going to be a daddy.”

  Chapter Nine

  Justin stared at the plastic stick for a long minute.

  “Well,” he finally said, “this is an even bigger surprise than my mother’s party.”

  Avery nodded again. “I’m sure you need some time...to process.”

  Yeah, processing would probably be good, because right now, his mind was blank except for the holy crap going around and around inside his head.

  When she’d told him that she got her period, he’d breathed a sigh of relief that they were in the clear and chalked up the birth-control faux pas to an “oops” that he promised himself would never happen again. And over the past couple of weeks, he’d mostly managed to put the whole pregnancy scare out of his mind.

  Now...he wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel. He’d already told her how he felt about the decisions she’d made without any communication or consultation, so there was no point in rehashing all of that again.

  But—holy crap—he really hadn’t been prepared for this.

  And though he was certain he already knew the answer to the question, he had to ask, “You’re going to have the baby?”

  Avery tilted her chin and narrowed her gaze on him. Maybe it was a question he felt compelled to ask, but after their previous discussion on the topic, she couldn’t help but feel angry and annoyed. “Yes, I’m going to have the baby.”

  He drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Do you want to get married?”

  She stared at him, certain she hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “Did you just ask—” She shook her head.

  “I asked if you wanted to get married,” he repeated.

  The question
was so completely unexpected, even the second time, that she wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “I always thought I would get married someday,” she finally told him. “But not because I’m pregnant and not to a man who doesn’t understand the meaning of commitment or long-term.”

  “Just because I haven’t had a long-term relationship in a while doesn’t mean I’m incapable of making a commitment.”

  “Then what does it mean?” she challenged.

  “Maybe I just haven’t wanted to commit to any of the other women that I’ve dated.”

  “But I’m supposed to believe that you’re willing to commit to a woman you haven’t dated at all?”

  “The only reason we haven’t dated is that you have some nonsensical ban on dating doctors,” he told her.

  “It’s not nonsensical,” she denied.

  “Then explain it to me,” he suggested.

  She shrugged, figuring she probably owed him that much. “Both of my parents were doctors—more committed to their careers than either their marriage or their children—and I decided a long time ago that that’s not what I want for my life.”

  “Except that we are both doctors and we’re having a baby together, so that pretty much decimates your logic, doesn’t it?” he challenged.

  “I don’t expect you to make any decisions right now,” she said, striving to remain calm and reasonable.

  “When should I make them?”

  “When you’ve had a chance to think about what this means for you.”

  “You said it yourself—it means I’m going to be a father,” he acknowledged bluntly.

  “That’s true,” she agreed. “But the last time we talked about this, I told you that it was my decision to accept the potential consequences of what happened between us and I’m not asking for anything from you.”

  “And I told you that if you were pregnant—and now we know that you are—you don’t just get a baby. You get me, too.”

  She frowned at the grim determination in his tone. “I thought that was just...an emotional outburst.”

  “I’m not prone to emotional outbursts,” he assured her. “I say what I mean and mean what I say. I want to be part of our baby’s life, and that would be easier to do if we were married.”