“I see. When can we meet her?”
“I’m not sure. We need to sort a few things out first.”
“Does she have family in Sydney?”
“No. She’s an only child and both her parents are dead.”
His mother gave a small, humorless laugh. “Of all my boys, you’re the last one I would have imagined this happening to. Tim, maybe, before he met Meg. He was always so forgetful. But you’re the organized one. The planner.”
“Yeah, well.”
She reached out to take his hand. “This is going to change your life, you know that, right? Having a baby is no small thing.”
“Who’s having a baby?”
Rhys’s gut got tight as Mark exited the house.
The many, endless joys of having four siblings. His mother looked at him, leaving it up to him to respond to his brother’s question. Mark followed their mother’s gaze and the curious expression on his face morphed into amazement.
“No way,” Mark said. “But you’re not even seeing anyone at the moment.”
“It was kind of an accident.”
“An accident? Are you kidding me?” There was no mistaking the judgment in his brother’s tone.
“A condom failed, okay?” Rhys said tightly.
Mark’s expression became more neutral. “Right. Well, I guess there’s not much you can do about that.”
“You think?” Rhys snapped.
His mother lay a calming hand on his forearm.
“So, who is she? And how come we haven’t met her yet? And when is the baby due?” Mark asked.
Rhys ran a hand over his face. All he wanted to do was go home, but he knew his brother well enough to know that there was no way he was going to let this go with the minimum of fuss.
“Her name is Charlie…” he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHARLIE SMILED AWKWARDLY as she exited the clinic bathroom and handed the specimen jar to the nurse.
“You can go in now,” the woman said, gesturing for Charlie to reenter the treatment room.
The space was empty and Charlie resumed her seat next to the doctor’s desk. Her hands were cold and she rubbed them together in an attempt to warm up. When the doctor didn’t return immediately, Charlie guessed she must be attending another patient and settled in for an extended wait.
Various charts covered the walls—a cross section of an eye, a detailed diagram of the lymphatic system, a cross section of a heart and lungs. Above the examination table was a chart depicting the various stages of pregnancy. Charlie crossed to get a closer look.
Her gaze ran over the first few weeks until she found week eight. According to the chart, her baby was no bigger than a kidney bean inside her womb, a tiny constellation of cells that was even now dividing and multiplying, dividing and multiplying, building a new life one building block at a time.
Unless, of course, there’s been some kind of mistake and you’re not really pregnant.
The thought hung in Charlie’s mind as she stared at the chart. That was what the urine sample had been for, of course—so the doctor could confirm what the home test had shown. Which must mean there was a chance she wasn’t pregnant, otherwise they wouldn’t bother checking her result…
For a moment she allowed herself to consider the possibility that it had been a big, messy, confusing mistake. That she wasn’t really pregnant, and that she didn’t really have to make things work with Rhys for the next fifty or so years.
She felt a little dizzy as she imagined being able to go back to her plans for her business and her future. There would be no huge unknown lying in wait in seven months’ time. Life would be infinitely simpler.
She walked slowly to the chair. It was odd, because she’d never thought of herself as an instinctive or feeling-driven person before, but she knew she was pregnant. Knew it in her bones. Which was probably why she found it so hard to picture a future without this pregnancy. Somehow, without her being aware of it, she’d moved beyond shock and panic into acceptance that she was going to be a mother.
She looked up at as the door handle rattled. Dr. Phillips entered, a smile on her face.
“A positive result. Congratulations, Charlotte.”
Charlie smiled. “Thanks.”
Twenty minutes later, she left the clinic with a fistful of pamphlets and a number to call to arrange for her first ultrasound in three weeks’ time. Dr. Phillips had been happy with her overall health but had encouraged her to keep on top of her calcium intake—plenty of dairy and leafy green vegetables—prescribed folic acid and had recommended a couple of good books on pregnancy. Charlie waited until she was in her car before pulling Rhys’s business card out of her purse pocket.
She hesitated a moment, reminding herself that he’d said that he would call her. Then she gave herself a mental shake. They weren’t dating, playing some kind of hard-to-get game. They were about to become parents together. She didn’t need to wait for him to call her.
She dialed his number and tapped her fingernails on the dash while she waited for the call to connect.
“Rhys speaking, how can I help you?”
His voice sounded so clear and deep that she started. She’d assumed she’d have to talk to the receptionist first, but Rhys had clearly given her his direct number.
“Rhys. It’s me. Charlie.”
There was a short pause before he responded. “Charlie. How are you? I was going to call you later this afternoon.”
“I know, but I wanted to let you know that I’ve been to the doctor and she’s confirmed everything. So, I’m still pregnant. Sorry about that.”
She felt a little pang of guilt as she heard herself apologizing for the kidney bean growing inside her. Her hand moved to her belly instinctively in wordless remorse.
“From what you said yesterday, there wasn’t much doubt. Was the doctor happy otherwise?”
Charlie filled him in on the rest of what the doctor had said. He asked a few more questions, noting the date for the ultrasound.
“I’ll call you afterward to let you know how it goes,” she said.
“Right,” Rhys said slowly. “I was thinking I might go with you. If that’s not a problem.”
She was surprised and it took her a moment to find her voice.
“Um, sure. If that’s what you want. But I know you’re busy.”
“So are you. I told you, Charlie. We’re in this together.”
“Okay. Then I’ll call you to let you know what time the appointment is.”
“Good. Have you had a chance to check your calendar for the week? When are you free for dinner?”
Dinner. Right. She’d agreed to have dinner with him, hadn’t she?
“I don’t really have any plans yet, so any night is good.”
“How does Wednesday sound?”
“Sure. Where do you want to meet?”
“How about I pick you up? It’s tough enough finding one parking spot around town these days,” Rhys said.
“You don’t want to drive all the way across town to pick me up.” Plus, she would prefer to have her car on hand, in case she needed or wanted to leave.
“It’s no bother.”
“You don’t need to chauffeur me around.”
It took him a second or two to respond. “Okay. If you’d rather drive.”
He sounded a little put out and she guessed he was probably used to getting his own way where women were concerned.
“So where would you like to go?” she asked.
“Do you like Asian food? Chinta Ria in Darling Harbour does a little bit of everything, Malaysian, Indian, Chinese…”
“Sounds good.”
Rhys gave her directions a
nd they agreed on a time. Charlie fiddled with the phone for a few minutes after the call had ended.
There was so much she and Rhys didn’t know about each other. She didn’t know how to interpret the pauses in his speech or the inflections in his tone. She didn’t know if he had a temper, and if so, what might set it off.
But that was what dinner on Wednesday night was all about, after all. Getting to know each other. Becoming comfortable with each other before they suddenly had to manage a baby between the two of them.
From this vantage point, it seemed like an impossible task. Insurmountable. But it had to happen, for the baby’s sake.
Dropping the phone onto the passenger seat, she started the car and headed for home.
WEDNESDAY NIGHT found her standing in front of her meager wardrobe, flicking back and forth between a pair of black trousers and a pair of jeans. Smart casual or casual? She had no idea. Shaking her head at her own indecision, she pulled out the black pants and threw them on the bed. Better to be overdressed than under.
She dragged on a black turtleneck and hustled into the bathroom to tackle her hair. As usual, it hung in a straight blah-brown curtain around her face. She knew from experience that there was no point trying to do anything with it, so she put it in a neat ponytail and reached for her makeup bag.
She was about to swipe on some eye shadow when she looked into her eyes in the mirror and came down to earth with a thud.
This wasn’t a date. Yet she was acting as though it was, running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Worrying about her clothes, her hair, her makeup. Tonight was about the baby she and Rhys had made together. Nothing else. He wasn’t interested in her as a woman. He might be putting a good face on it, stepping up and doing and saying all the right things, but she’d seen the moment of absolute denial in his face when she’d first broken the news to him. This was the last thing he wanted, the last thing he’d had planned for his life. She and the baby were millstones around his neck.
She didn’t hold it against him. But she wasn’t going to let herself get sucked into a false reality. Her relationship with Rhys was founded on obligation and responsibility. No more, no less.
She set down her eye-shadow compact. She allowed herself lipstick and a spritz of perfume because she’d put both on no matter where she was going or who she was meeting, then she left the bathroom. She collected her coat, and made her way out to her car.
Thanks to heavy traffic, she was running ten minutes late when she approached the rustic, Asian-themed facade of Chinta Ria. A couple exited and she caught the studded wooden door before it closed behind them and slipped into the restaurant. The interior had high ceilings with exposed beams, polished concrete floors and groups of tables surrounded by chairs painted in bright tropical colors. Carved friezes decorated the roof supports and huge silk lanterns swayed gently overhead. The dining area was crowded, the noise level loud. Charlie hovered near the entrance, scanning the tables for Rhys’s dark head. She couldn’t see him anywhere.
Then her gaze slid over to the bar and got caught on a tall, broad-shouldered figure talking to one of the barmaids. Rhys was wearing a dark charcoal suit and one of his elbows rested on the bar as he chatted easily with the pretty blonde. He’d pulled his tie free and opened his collar and he looked handsome and successful and incredibly appealing. As she watched, the barmaid laughed at something he said and swatted his arm in a classic flirty move. Something tightened in the pit of Charlie’s stomach as she watched Rhys laugh in response.
So none of your business.
She shrugged her bag higher on her shoulder and set out across the restaurant. She didn’t take her eyes off him the whole way, but Rhys was so absorbed in his conversation that he didn’t register her presence until she pulled out the stool next to him.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she sat.
“Charlie. You made it.”
His smile was warm and genuine and she had to force herself not to pull away when he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
“I’ve been getting some menu advice from Zara. She recommends the king prawns and the toh beef.”
Charlie made eye contact with the barmaid. Up close, she was even prettier than she’d appeared at a distance. A little young, perhaps, for Rhys, but—again—really none of her business.
“Sounds good,” she said with what she hoped was an easy smile.
“You want wine or something first?”
Charlie was about to decline when he shook his head.
“Sorry. You can’t drink. Ignore me. Let’s grab a table.”
Charlie slid off the stool, watching out of the corner of her eye as Rhys thanked Zara for her expert advice. Then he led Charlie to the far corner of the dining room where a number of tables for two were still available.
“Any preferences?” he asked.
“Not really.”
He took her at her word and chose the coziest table. She slid into her seat and faced him across the flickering amber light of a tea-light lantern.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she said. “I keep underestimating the travel time. Sydney’s much busier than when I lived here last.”
“When was that?”
“It was my first posting after recruit training. So, I guess it must have been nearly thirteen years ago now.”
“You must have seen a bit of the country, one way or another. What was your favorite posting?”
Rhys propped his elbow on the table, his dark gaze scanning her face with warm interest. Despite everything—their situation, the stern talking-to she’d given herself, her own very well-developed common sense—a part of her couldn’t help responding to the magnetic pull of his personality. She was only human, after all, and he was undeniably a handsome, charismatic man.
Obligation, remember? And in case you didn’t notice, he looked exactly the same when he was talking to the blonde, down to the elbow on the bar.
She dragged her gaze from his face and reached for her napkin, spreading it across her lap.
“Townsville was good. Mostly because I roomed with my friend Gina and we had a good crew in Sigs up there. The people make more of a difference than the place, at the end of the day.”
“I get that. It’s the same in I.T. My last job, the money was great, but the owner of the firm was a narcissistic jerk and the corporate culture was poison. Greg and I both made a deal that we’d hang in there for two years to fund our start-up, and both of us wanted to bail at twelve months.”
He smiled self-deprecatingly as he said it, his eyes crinkling at the corners attractively.
“Did you? Bail, I mean?”
“Nope. Even though it almost killed us both, we hung in. But man, did we bitch our asses off at lunchtime.” His grin was irresistible, equal parts naughty boy and knowing, confident man. It was impossible to stop an answering smile from curving her own mouth.
“How long before they became strategy meetings?” she asked.
“Not long. Nothing like being miserable to spur a guy to change his situation.”
“I believe that’s the stick component of the carrot-and-stick theory.”
He laughed. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
She felt a warm sense of achievement over having made him laugh. Which was dangerous and just plain dumb. She made a big deal out of examining the menu, which doubled as a place mat.
“Wow. There’s a lot to choose from.” She kept her gaze glued to the menu. It seemed safer that way.
“It’s been a while since I’ve eaten here, but everything I’ve had is good.”
“Great.”
A silence fell as they both studied the menu. Charlie told herself it was companionable, but she knew it wasn’t. This was too new, too forced, and there was so much riding on whatever rel
ationship they were able to cobble together out of this mess. Under the table, she pulled back her sleeve and tilted her watch so she could see the face.
Barely ten minutes had passed. Dear God. This was going to be the longest night of her life. Ironic, given that the night they’d met she’d wanted it to last forever.
She made an effort to relax her shoulders and glanced across the table at Rhys. “So, what looks good?”
RHYS WATCHED CHARLIE as she gave her order to the waitress. She was smiling and she’d responded to everything he said and made her own comments and jokes, but he could see the tension in her body and her face. Under any other circumstances, he’d order them both a drink and wait for the lubricating effect of alcohol to chill them both out. Since that wasn’t going to happen, he needed another strategy.
The waitress left and Charlie reached for her water glass.
“Look at it this way—it has to get easier from here on in, right?” he said.
Her eyes widened over the glass rim and she swallowed with an audible gulp.
“Beg pardon?”
“The weirdness. It can only be this bad at the start, right?”
She stared at him for a moment as though she couldn’t quite believe he’d said what he had. Then a slow smile dawned across her face. She sat back in her chair, her shoulders visibly dropping a notch.
“It’s not just me, then?”
“Oh, it’s definitely you,” he said, deadpan.
Her smile broadened. “Thanks for the confirmation.”
He leaned forward, driven by an urge to cut through all the bull. “This is like speed dating, only with higher stakes. We need to take a crash course in each other.”
“A crash course. Right. There isn’t something a little less violent we could do?” Despite her words there was an appreciative light in her eyes.
“Five questions. No holds barred. No formulating responses, just whatever comes into our heads. Okay?”
Her gaze grew sharper. “Who goes first?”
“We alternate.”
“But someone still has to go first.”
More Than One Night Page 11