Confidential: Expecting!

by Jackie Braun

  Mallory didn’t get much work done after returning to the office. How could she? Briefly she’d considered contacting Logan’s family. As close-knit as the Bartholomew clan was, surely his parents or one of his siblings would know what was going on. But she refrained. She could wait till this evening. Logan would explain the situation, and together they would figure out how to deal with whatever it was that was causing him so much distress.

  She was staring at her blank computer screen when her phone rang. It was the editor.

  “I need to see you in my office.”

  In the past being summoned to Barry’s office hadn’t filled Mallory with trepidation. Heck, she’d barged in without an invitation often enough when she was working on a good story. Today, between nerves and the baby, she felt downright nauseated, and her queasiness intensified when she spied Sandra sitting to one side of his desk.

  “Shut the door,” Barry told her.

  Mallory had the odd feeling that her fate was being sealed as it closed.

  “What’s up?” she asked, striving for casual.

  “Sandra is working on a story, one that will be an exclusive if we can wrap it up quickly.”

  “How very enterprising of you,” Mallory remarked. “What does it have to do with me?”

  “She’s dug up some rather damning information on a local celebrity. The facts are pretty solid, but our lawyers are demanding we ensure every i is dotted and every t crossed. They’ve become a little gun-shy these days.”

  Mallory’s heart had begun to pound so loudly that she had to strain her ears to hear what Sandra was saying. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? I need an interview with Logan Bartholomew and, given how chummy the two of you have become lately, I figure you can help me get it.”

  “Why do you need an interview with Logan?” But she knew. Felicia. It was all starting to make sense.

  “You can read the answer to that in the paper when the story breaks.”

  Mallory stiffened her spine. “You think I’ll help you?”

  “We’re all on the same team,” the editor inserted. “Sandra has offered to give you credit for contributing to her report in a tagline at the end the story.”

  Did they really think Mallory was holding out for credit? Perhaps the old Mallory would have. The one who put work above everything, including personal relationships.

  “Sorry. I can’t help you.”

  The response had Sandra cursing and the editor blowing out a breath. “Fine,” Barry said after a moment. “I’ll spring you from features.”

  It was what she’d wanted when she’d pursued Logan in the beginning. She couldn’t help but think she was partly to blame for his current mess. Whatever juicy tidbit Sandra had managed to unearth, Mallory was the one who had started the digging.

  Ignoring the editor’s offer, she turned to her rival. “I have to hand it to you, Hutchens. You’re brighter than you look. You saw me riffling through the files that night in the morgue and actually put two and two together.”

  “I hope you’re not going to accuse me of poaching your story.” Glancing at the editor, Sandra said, “I merely picked up where she left off, since it didn’t appear she was going to do anything with the information.”

  “I made it pretty easy, even for someone with your poor instincts,” Mallory snapped.

  Sandra ignored the insult. “You signed out all those clip files in my name and then took your sweet time turning them in.” Her smile was both malicious and triumphant. “It made me wonder just what you were up to. Then I saw you with Logan and remembered seeing you reading his engagement announcement.”

  Mallory was the one who swore this time. “Well, I can’t help you out any further.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Sandra asked. “I need to speak to him.”

  “Sorry.” She lifted her shoulders.

  Sandra turned to the editor. “I want an exclusive! For the paper, of course.”

  “Of course,” Mallory muttered. Had she really been as driven as Sandra? As blind to everything and everyone around her?

  “The lawyers want us to include a response from either Bartholomew or someone authorized to speak on his behalf,” the editor said. “Sorry, Sandra. I’m not willing to stick my neck out again.” His gaze slid to Mallory before he added, “It still has ax marks on it from the last time.”

  A moment ago Mallory had been offered a way out of the doghouse, but Barry was letting her know that unless she helped them, she would remain in it.

  Sandra stood, braced her hands on his desk and leaned forward. The pose was menacing, but her voice verged on whining when she said, “But, Barry, we can’t wait much longer. If we do, one of the other news outlets is bound to scoop us. It’s just a matter of time as it is till the news breaks, especially since Venture Media has offered Bartholomew a syndicated television show.”

  So, they knew about that, too. Mallory tried to downplay the situation. “What’s the big deal? So the guy was dumped by his ex and then had a hard time trusting women. He may be a psychiatrist, but he’s also human.”

  Sandra turned, her eyes lighting up with almost maniacal delight. “He hasn’t told you. My God, you, journalist extraordinaire Mallory Stevens, are in the dark.” She clapped her hands together. “I love it! I absolutely love it!”

  “Sandra,” Barry began, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable as he divided a look between the two women.

  Sandra ignored him. “Please, Barry. At least let me break this story.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mallory demanded through clenched teeth.

  “Your darling doctor is a daddy. The deadbeat variety.”

  If she hadn’t been sitting, Mallory’s legs would have buckled. “What?”

  “You heard me. Logan has a son. A nine-year-old boy he fathered with Felicia, and I have it on good authority that he’s never seen or so much as tried to contact the kid, much less paid any child support.”

  Mallory shook her head, unconsciously covering her abdomen with one shaking hand. “You’re wrong. Logan doesn’t…and even if he did he wouldn’t…You’re mistaken.”

  “No. I’m not. Unless the birth certificate is wrong. You’re not only a sloppy reporter, Mallory, you’re a damned fool.”

  Sandra sailed out of Barry’s office then, leaving Mallory shell-shocked and reeling. Her humiliation was complete when her stomach heaved and she was forced to wretch in the editor’s wastepaper basket.

  Barry offered the box of tissue rather than any sympathy.

  “I won’t even ask about half the stuff Sandra just said, all I want to know is if you’re going to help.”

  She wiped her lips, would have killed for a breath mint. She settled for a stiff spine. “No. I thought I’d already made that clear.”

  “Come on,” he cajoled. “We both know you did half the legwork on this story. Help Sandra finish it and you can get back to doing what you do best.”

  Hard news. Real stories. Meaty pieces about scandals, lawbreaking and deceit. She was a journalist. She would always enjoy breaking news. But she wouldn’t exploit her relationship with Logan to do it, especially since she didn’t consider this to be on par with government bribes, police cover-ups or accounting irregularities at city hall. If what Sandra claimed was true, it was Logan’s private hell, and she had to believe he had an explanation. He wasn’t a deadbeat. He wasn’t anything like her father. He’d given her nothing but reasons to trust him. She wouldn’t start doubting him now when he needed her most.

  “No,” she told Barry.

  When Mallory rose to her feet, he asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  To tell the father of my unborn child how much I love him. To help him through his current crisis. She wasn’t going to walk away from him now, and she certainly wasn’t going to play an active role in the effort to destroy his life.

  “Mallory,” Barry shouted when she reached his door. “I asked where you’re going.”

  “Home. I
don’t feel well.” But she knew what to do to make herself better.

  It was nine-twenty when Logan knocked at Mallory’s door. Logan was wiped out emotionally and physically, his adrenaline used up. He’d contacted Felicia and spent a couple of hours on the phone with her, and later with her parents. It made him feel marginally better that they hadn’t known Devon’s true paternity. Like everyone else, they had assumed that Nigel Getty was the child’s father. Apparently only Nigel and Felicia had known the whole truth. That she’d discovered her pregnancy after breaking off her engagement to Logan.

  Nigel and Felicia had gone ahead with their wedding, both hoping the child would turn out to be Nigel’s. But almost immediately after Devon’s birth it became apparent he favored Logan. Their marriage had lasted a year. Ironically, while Nigel had had no problem becoming involved with an engaged woman, the idea of raising a son he had not fathered had proven beyond his ability. When a paternity test confirmed that Devon was Logan’s, Nigel filed for divorce. At his insistence, the birth certificate was changed to reflect the boy’s true parentage. But neither Logan nor Devon was ever told the truth.

  Logan was angry, bitter. He felt betrayed all over again by Felicia, but it was worse this time. He was a father. He had a son. And they were absolute strangers.

  Weighing almost as heavily on his mind was what Mallory’s reaction was going to be to the news. Would she believe him? Would she accept that he’d had no idea of Felicia’s pregnancy when they’d parted ways? Or would she view the situation through the filter of her past and come to the same assumption Sandra had: that he’d happily walked away from his responsibility.

  Just as Mallory’s father had all those years ago.

  Logan tried to smile when the door opened. Mallory’s face was ashen, but her shoulders were squared. Something in her expression told him she already knew what he was going to tell her. More than anything he wanted to hold her. He needed her understanding as much as he needed her comfort and support. But he held back, waiting for some sign that she would offer them.

  “I was getting worried,” she said.

  “Sorry. It took a little longer than I’d anticipated.”

  After his conversations with Felicia and her family, he’d spent time with his lawyer. There would not be a custody battle. Logan and his son were strangers. It would be cruel and traumatic to try to wrench the boy away from Felicia, even though Logan had every intention of being an involved father. A visitation schedule would be worked out as well as financial support.

  “Come in,” she said.

  Stepping into the well-lit foyer, he could see that Mallory was pale and looked drawn. “You look like I feel. Everything okay?”

  “The editor summoned me to his office after I returned to the newspaper.”

  His heart sank. “I think I can guess why.”

  “Sandra was quite gleeful about the whole matter.”

  “Yeah, I got that feeling when she reached me at the station the other day and dropped the bomb.” He wondered if the shrapnel wounds would ever heal. “Mallory, about the boy—”

  “You didn’t know.”

  Her tone held absolutely no equivocation. And here Logan had thought he couldn’t love her more than he already did. Given her past, Mallory had every reason not to believe him. But she did. She did.

  “Thank you for that. I was worried that you’d think—”

  She stopped his words with a kiss. “No. I’m done living in the past, remember? They want a quote from you, by the way, and they want me to get it.” She tilted her head to one side. “Sandra said she’d give me a bit of credit in the story tagline. The editor was more generous than that. He offered to spring me from the Lifestyles section.”

  “If I have to talk to someone, I’d rather it be you. And if you get your old beat back in the process that will make it worthwhile.”

  Mallory frowned. “You think I agreed to do it? I just told you I’m done living in the past. My job is no longer my life, Logan. I won’t use you to get back into the newsroom. It’s not worth it.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “I would. I love you.”

  “I love you right back.” He kissed her and Mallory smiled.

  “See, no job can do that.”

  As relieved as he was at the moment, Logan was also a realist. They had more to discuss, more decisions to make. He led her to the couch and pulled her down next to him.

  “My life is about to become a three-ring circus,” he began. “My agent informed me on the way here that the contract for my syndicated show has been nullified.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I thought I would be, too. But I’m not. It wasn’t the direction I wanted to go professionally. They’ll be releasing a statement to the media since the rumors of a deal were already circulating. It’s going to get really complicated.”

  “Are you trying to give me an out?”

  “Just for a little while. I don’t want you to get struck by any of the mud that’s about to get flung.”

  “That’s sweet, but I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together, Logan.”

  “I was hoping that was what you’d say. I need you, Mallory.” He shoved a hand through his hair, his composure crumpling. “My God, I have a son. A son. He’s nine years old and he doesn’t know who I am, and I don’t know the first thing about him or, for that matter, about being a father.”

  “You’ll be a great dad.”

  He appreciated her conviction, but his voice caught when he said, “I’ve missed so much stuff that I shouldn’t have missed. Forget walking and talking, he’s already riding a bike, playing baseball. I can’t believe Felicia kept this from me all these years.”

  Logan’s pain was plainly visible. Mallory’s heart ached for him. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Felicia and I talked for a long time. I can’t believe she did what she did, especially keeping Devon from me even after she knew the truth. But what’s done is done. Arguing about it now won’t solve anything.”

  “So what will you do?”

  “Felicia was already considering returning to Chicago. Her business in Portland is failing, and now that I know about Devon she doesn’t really have any reason to remain there. After I meet Devon and get to know him well enough that he’s comfortable spending time alone with me, we’re going to work out a visitation arrangement. So part of the time it won’t be just the two of us.”

  Mallory had planned to tell Logan about their child tonight, and part of her still wanted to, but it wouldn’t be fair. He had so much on his plate right now. Her news would keep. For another day or a couple weeks at most. Just until Logan caught his second wind.

  Two weeks passed. Not surprisingly, the media, both in Chicago and nationally, had a field day as the story of Logan’s nine-year-old “love child” leaked out.

  The tabloids and some Internet blogs questioned Logan’s claims that he hadn’t known about his son, despite Felicia’s statements supporting that version of events. Mallory could only imagine what would be written if anyone was privy to news of her pregnancy. She was still keeping it under wraps. She hadn’t even told Vicki, though her friend had raised her eyebrows when Mallory had ordered a virgin margarita at their last get-together.

  Logan had to be the first to know. And he would be. Very soon.

  He was returning today after a weekend in Oregon. He’d met his son for the first time yesterday. He’d called Mallory last night so full of heartache and hope that she knew she couldn’t keep the news to herself any longer. The timing might not be perfect, but it was right.

  She was on her way to the airport now and she had it all planned. After she picked him up, she was going to take him back to her apartment where a candlelight dinner waited. She’d cheated on the meal, calling Luke to cater it. She wanted everything to be perfect, and her cooking skills were still iffy at best.

  She spied Logan the moment he came through the gate at O’Hare. He looked tired but oddly energized. She gree
ted him with a hug. When she would have pulled away, he hugged her tighter and finished with a kiss that had her toes wanting to curl.

  “I think you missed me.”

  “I did, indeed. And it got me thinking.”

  “Yeah? About what?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get to my place.” He bobbed his brows.

  “If you’re not too tired from your flight, I thought we’d go to my apartment instead. I have dinner waiting and a little surprise.”

  “That’s fine. I have a little surprise of my own,” he said with an enigmatic wink.

  The last thing Mallory expected Logan to do the moment they entered her apartment was pull a ring box from his pocket and drop to one knee. He’d said he had a little surprise for her. Talk about an understatement. The diamond winking back at her from the box appeared to be all of three carats.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she asked.

  “You can’t figure it out? You’re usually pretty quick.” He grinned.

  “You…you want…”

  “To marry you.” He nodded and caught her in his arms when she sagged. They both wound up sitting on the floor. “I love you, Mallory. I want to spend my life with you. If you want to take your time answering, that’s okay. I know things are a little crazy right now and they will be for a while yet. I can be patient.”

  “I don’t need to take time. Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.” She cupped his face, kissed him soundly and then sighed as he took over and lowered her onto the floor.

  It was several moments before he helped her to her feet. “Dinner smells good,” he said. “Hey, didn’t you say you had a little surprise for me, too?”

  She nibbled her bottom lip, but then smiled. It was too early to feel the baby, but she swore she felt something wonderful flutter inside of her. “Yes, I do.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three years later

  “WE’RE having a baby?” Logan was smiling as he asked the question.

  “The doctor says I’m due the first week in October.” Mallory grinned in reply. “She could arrive on our third wedding anniversary.”