Perfect Pairings

by J. A. Armstrong

Carrie yawned and stretched.

  “Why don’t we go to bed?” Devon suggested.

  “Honestly, I’d rather stay here.”

  “Carrie…”

  “It’s easier for me to get comfortable.”

  “I wish you would slow down.”

  Carrie groaned.

  “I know you don’t want to, but think about it like this; you won’t be able to relax in a few weeks. So, why not do it now?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What?”

  “Are you conspiring with both CJ and my mother?”

  “Why, did your mom say something?”

  “Pretty much what you just said.”

  “See?”

  Carrie giggled. “I’ll try.”

  “You’re bored,” Devon surmised.

  “No,” Carrie said. “Maybe.”

  “Do you wish you had started working as soon as the firm closed?”

  “Not really.”

  “Which means you do.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe is a popular word with you tonight,” Devon commented.

  Carrie closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. There were days when she missed packing up her briefcase and heading to the office. Sometimes, she would close her eyes and picture herself walking through the corridor of Maynard and Willis, stopping along the way to greet a client or to hear one of the designer’s new ideas. It wasn’t regret that fueled her thoughts. Change was never easy even when a change was needed. She looked forward to getting back to work in some capacity. One thing Carrie did know; she did not want work to compete with motherhood. When CJ was home, Carrie’s thoughts seldom traveled to work. Her mind wandered when CJ left for school or when she spent days at Tom’s house. CJ struggled with leaving Carrie and Devon. Every time Carrie watched CJ cry, a small piece of her heart shattered. Within a few minutes of CJ arriving at Tom’s, Carrie’s phone was sure to ring. CJ would ask if she could come home. Carrie wrestled with both guilt and a desire to run and pick CJ up each time it happened. She sought anything to occupy her thoughts when CJ was away. Work would serve as a distraction. Soon, a baby would command her attention. Privately, she worried how CJ would cope. Carrie found herself torn between wanting to get back to her professional life in some capacity and the desire to table everything for motherhood.

  “Carrie?” Devon gently prodded her wife.

  “I don’t know what I want to do,” Carrie confessed.

  “About what?”

  Carrie opened her eyes. “About work.”

  “Okay?”

  “Heather has an offer from Hargrove.”

  Devon wasn’t surprised the hear that Carrie’s former assistant was being courted by the company Carrie had sold. Heather had worked side by side with Carrie for years. She had the pulse of the clients, the designers, and a feel, as Carrie called it for the business. In Carrie’s absence, Heather would serve as the most adept liaison between the past and the future of the company. “And, she wants to accept?”

  “I think she should accept.”

  “I thought you wanted to bring Heather on to help you?”

  Carrie sighed. “Someday, I think I would.”

  “You’re thinking about taking time away.”

  “Devon, I think about work; I do. I even miss it. Mostly, that’s when CJ isn’t here. It gives me something to think about other than CJ crying and being afraid that she won’t get to come home. If she’s struggling now, how is she going to feel when this baby comes?”

  Devon nodded. She shared Carrie’s concerns. Try as they might to allay CJ’s fears, some part of the youngster remained convinced that her life would be upended again. Weekly family therapy revealed that insecurity time and again. Tom had tried to reduce his travel. Those attempts had been short-lived at best. Devon was sure that unless Tom decided to change his career substantially, frequent business trips would rule his life, and thus their entire family’s life. He’d tried. The offers to consult on complex cases enticed him time and again. The needs of his aging parents called him away frequently. CJ would fall into a routine with Carrie and Devon only to find herself uprooted into a different schedule and dynamic suddenly. Devon wondered if every family who shared custody of a child combatted the same problems. Not every family had been through what their family had. Not every child had watched her mother spiral and become undependable. Not every child had experienced death at the age of five. Families were unique. Devon didn’t doubt that Tom wanted what was best for CJ. She suspected that he struggled with the connection both Carrie and CJ presented to Dar. And, she had grown to think that some of Tom’s baggage had morphed into misplaced feelings for Carrie. Carrie didn’t see it. Devon was sure of that. Tom would never act on his feelings. It complicated things further. Devon guessed that was part of the reason Tom chose to travel as often as he did.

  “Are you thinking that you might want to concentrate on being Mom?” Devon asked.

  “How would you feel about that?” Carrie asked.

  “About you being a full-time mom? If that’s what you want, I’m all for it. It’s not as if you can’t change your mind whenever you are ready for something else.”

  Carrie had expected Devon’s response. “I’m worried about her, Devon. It seems like Tommy’s traveling upticks weekly. I don’t understand it. I know he loves CJ. I know he misses her. It’s like he’s avoiding her or something. That’s not like him.”

  Devon sucked in a long, deep breath and decided to dive in. “I think he is avoiding her—and you.”

  “Me?”

  “Carrie, don’t you think it’s possible that Tommy’s feelings for you might have changed a little?”

  Carrie was stunned. “No.”

  “I think that you and CJ are his link to Dar. I think it’s easy to confuse feelings when you miss someone that much.”

  “Dev, I don’t…”

  “It would’ve been so easy for both of you in a lot of ways to get together after she died.”

  “Not really.”

  “You know what I mean,” Devon said. “He’s your best friend, Carrie. I get that. I love Tom too. I also understand where he’s at.”

  “I’m glad you do because I’m having a hard time lately. I love him. I do, Dev. CJ needs structure. The constant changing unnerves her. With this baby—I worry that she’ll feel she’s second. I don’t want any of my children to feel they are playing second fiddle to the other.”

  Devon smiled. “Neither do I. Is this why you’ve been so hell-bent on staying busy lately?”

  “I can’t seem to quiet my mind,” Carrie confessed. “So, I have to busy my hands.”

  “I get it. I’ll support whatever you decide, babe.”

  “I know you will. Maybe I just needed to hear myself say it.”

  “Another maybe, huh?”

  Carrie chuckled. “Maybe it’s the hormones.”

  Devon raised her brow. “Maybe it is.”

  Carrie covered her face and shook her head. “Take me to bed.”

  Devon grinned. “Is that an invitation?”

  Carrie winked. “Maybe.”

  Devon erupted in laughter. She offered Carrie her hand. “Come on, Mommy.”

  “Oh, God, no.”

  “What?” Devon asked.

  “We are not going to be one of those couples that starts calling each other mommy. It’s disturbing.”

  “You mean I can’t ask you to spank me?”

  “Devon!” Carrie laughed. “Don’t make me laugh when I’m walking.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t have diapers in this house yet.”

  Devon giggled. “Let’s go,” she said.

  Carrie yawned.

  “The only thing getting lucky tonight is your pillow,” she told Carrie.

  “Probably so,” Carrie agreed as she climbed into the bed.

  “Well, at least that’s an improvement.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve graduated from maybe t
o probably.”

  Carrie rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Dev.”

  “Night, Mommy.”

  Carrie sniggered. “Keep it up; you’ll get the spanking without asking.”

  Devon closed her eyes and grinned. And, she didn’t even say maybe. She turned and wrapped an arm around Carrie.

  Carrie clasped Devon’s hand. “I know what you’re thinking,” she whispered. “Mom.”

  Devon chuckled. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  ONE WEEK LATER

  “I need to go,” Devon said. She threw a pen into her desk drawer, closed it, and pushed her chair out.

  “Hot date or play date?” Bruce teased.

  “That depends on what you consider hot and what you consider playful. We have an appointment with the OB at three.”

  “Yeah, not hot or playful. What happened to the days when I could live vicariously through you?” Bruce asked.

  “I don’t call you Solo for nothing.”

  “Ha-ha. How’s Carrie doing?”

  “Good, I think. Tom’s coming for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh boy. Do you think CJ will throw a fit?”

  “Not tonight. He’s leaving for Boston early tomorrow, I guess.”

  “Didn’t he just get back from a trip?”

  Devon shrugged. “Yeah. That was to see his mom. This is business.”

  “Do you need me to watch CJ while you take Carrie?”

  “Nah, not today. She’s with Grandma Jill and Dakota.” Devon grabbed her keys and offered Bruce a small wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Leaving already?” D & B’s banquet manager, Stephen asked as Devon brushed by him.

  “Yep. See you tomorrow.”

  “Where’s Dev off to so early?” Stephen asked Bruce.

  “Doctor’s appointment.”

  “Is she sick?”

  Bruce laughed. Lovesick, maybe. “No. It’s for Carrie.” He watched Devon’s figure disappear in the distance.

  “Oh. Leigh Matthews called about setting up a party,” Stephen said.

  Stephen’s news immediately caught Bruce’s attention. Leigh Matthews wasn’t a popular figure at D & B’s. He was glad that Devon had left for the day. Stephen had only been working at the restaurant for two months and had not been present for the drama that had surrounded Carrie’s best friend’s consistent absence and subsequent death. Despite revelations regarding Darlene Willis’ health, Bruce knew that Carrie harbored a degree of resentment toward Leigh. And, Leigh Matthews wasn’t exactly Devon’s favorite person to spend time with either. Leigh did, however, pay well—very well. And, for some reason, Ms. Matthews seemed to have an affinity for D & B’s Steakhouse. Bruce sighed.

  “I thought you’d be pleased,” Stephen commented.

  Bruce nodded. “When is she looking to book?”

  “July 2nd.”

  “For?” Bruce inquired.

  “I’m not sure the purpose. Does it matter?”

  Everything with Leigh Matthews matters. “I suppose not.”

  “About a hundred people.”

  “All right. I’m not sure why you’re bringing this to me.”

  “She wants Devon to handle it.”

  I’m sure she does. “I don’t think that will be possible.”

  “Bruce, she’s talking two-hundred a head.”

  Bruce stared at Stephen blankly then shook his head. “We don’t have packages for two-hundred a head.”

  “Well, with the additions she’s requesting, that would be the ballpark figure.”

  “Devon is out.”

  “I’m not sure she’ll book if Devon doesn’t run point.”

  “Why not?”

  “Who knows? Who cares? It’s a twenty-grand event, Bruce—in the dead of summer. How can you pass that up?”

  Bruce rubbed his eyes. Carrie’s due date was July 5th. He doubted that Devon would agree to supervise any banquets between now and when Carrie gave birth. The money would make no difference; that much he did know. “I wouldn’t get your hopes set on this event Leigh wants to plan, not if it’s contingent on Devon’s involvement.”

  “Can’t you at least talk to her?”

  “Who; Leigh or Devon?”

  “Devon.”

  “I can.”

  Stephen grinned.

  “Talk to Leigh again,” Bruce advised.

  “She was adamant.”

  Bruce groaned. “Give me all the information you have. I’ll talk to Dev. I wouldn’t bank on her agreeing to this.”

  “Can’t hurt to ask.”

  I wouldn’t count on that either.

  ***

  Devon gripped her bottom lip with her teeth as she listened to the doctor. Carrie seemed to be calm. How could Carrie be so calm?

  “Devon?” Dr. Brandt called for Devon’s attention.

  “What does that mean?” Devon asked.

  “It means that Carrie could go any time now.”

  “But that’s not supposed to happen for three more weeks.”

  Dr. Brandt smiled. “Technically—no. Babies have their own mind,” she said.

  “What do I need to do?” Carrie asked.

  “Rest as much as you can. The longer that baby stays put, the better. That doesn’t mean we won’t be seeing you sooner rather than later,” Dr. Brandt said.

  “Are you worried?” Devon wanted to know.

  “I’d prefer that little one stay put for another week or two. I would say that I am cautious, not worried. And, I don’t want either of you to worry. That won’t help—trust me. Take it easy. Watch some movies. Stay off your feet as much as you can. I will see you at the beginning of next week unless I see you before that.”

  “You won’t see us before that,” Devon said.

  Carrie smirked.

  “She won’t,” Devon repeated herself.

  Dr. Brandt found Devon both amusing and endearing. “Try not to worry, Devon. It won’t stop what’s meant to happen. I’ve been doing this a long time. Worry never prevents what you’re worried about.” She winked at Carrie. “Call if you have any concerns. Otherwise, I’ll see you in four or five days.”

  “I will. Thank you,” Carrie said.

  “How can you be so calm?” Devon asked when the doctor left the room.

  “You heard her. I’m not going to get myself upset about having this baby.”

  “She needs to stay put.”

  Carrie laughed. Always a she. “Come on,” she said. “Take me home.”

  “I’ll drop you off and then I can go get CJ.”

  “Devon…”

  “Don’t argue with me,” Devon said firmly.

  Carrie nodded. She wasn’t keen on delivering early; not even by a couple of weeks. She wasn’t afraid either. She’d felt confident about her pregnancy for months. She couldn’t rationally explain her lack of concern about delivering a baby. Any thoughts that conjured worry for Carrie centered around life after the baby arrived. How would she balance a baby and CJ? How would she ensure that CJ felt secure, knowing there was bound to be a modicum of jealousy? Would she be a good mother? Was she a good mother? Those were the thoughts that plagued Carrie late at night. She would often place her hand on her belly and smile at the movements within, wondering who was waiting to meet her. Would it be a little boy or a little girl? Would he love sports or music? Would she want to be a ballerina or a hash slinger like her momma? Carrie would contemplate future Christmases, Easter egg hunts, first dates, and bad report cards. Would she be able to guide her children through all of it? It seemed to her that the hardest parts were yet to come.

  “Are you okay?” Devon asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You didn’t argue with me,” Devon said as she held the door open.

  Carrie laughed. “You told me not to.”

  “Since when has that stopped you?”

  “Enjoy it while it lasts,” Carrie said.

  Devon grumbled. “That’s
not very reassuring,” she muttered.

  Carrie snickered softly. Oh, Dev, you are priceless.

  ***

  “Everything okay?” Jillian asked her daughter.

  Devon flopped into a kitchen chair. “Not really.”

  “Devon?”

  “Carrie’s dilated two centimeters already.”

  “I see. Was the doctor concerned?”

  “Cautious. You know doctors, Mom. They’re always cautious. Which is their way of saying you have a reason to worry, and then telling you not to.”

  “It’s not uncommon, Devon. It could still take weeks.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Dr. Brandt said.”

  “So, why the long face?”

  “She told Carrie to take it easy.”

  “And, you’re worried Carrie won’t?”

  “I don’t know. She seemed content to relax on the couch when I left her.”

  “But?”

  “I just think she’s ready for it to be over—being pregnant, I mean.”

  Jillian poured hot water into two mugs and added a tea bag to each. “I’m sure that’s true.”

  “I just want them to be okay.”

  “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

  “How can I not worry? All the books say that you should reach thirty-eight weeks—at least. Carrie’s barely in her thirty-seventh.”

  “Do you want my opinion?”

  “Please.”

  “Stop reading books,” Jillian advised.

  “Mom…”

  “You said you wanted my opinion. That’s my opinion. Stop looking things up on the internet too. Listen to the doctor, Devon. Dr. Brandt has been delivering babies for almost thirty years. She knows what she’s talking about. When that baby is ready to come, he’s coming whether you want him to or not.”

  Devon muttered something under her breath.

  “You’re not going to help anything by stewing over this.”

  “Why do you think it’s a boy?” Devon asked.

  “What?”

  “You said he. You said, he’s coming whether I want him to or not.”

  Jillian rolled her eyes. “Why are you so convinced it’s a girl?”

  “It is.”

  “Then why are you worried about what I think?”

  “I see what you did there,” Devon replied. “Not the same, Mom.”