The Daddy Decision

by Donna Sterling

  Cort welcomed the distraction. Rory set his guitar aside and followed them to the rec room, where they watched football, smoked cigars and shot a game of pool. B.J. soon joined them, and eventually, Fletcher did, too.

  After the game, they all returned to the great room where Laura, Steffie and Tamika sat on the sofa, engrossed in quiet conversation. Cort had barely reached his favorite spot beside the fireplace when a shriek drew every gaze to Steffie.

  “You’re going to what?” Steffie cried, leaping up from the sofa and staring at Laura with wide, incredulous eyes. Tamika also gaped at Laura, openmouthed.

  Laura’s face, Cort noticed, turned a deep shade of red as her gaze shot beyond Steffie and Tamika to the others who were now listening. She put a finger to her lips to shush Steffie, but she was obviously beyond the shushing point.

  “A baby?” Steffie screeched. “You’re going to have a baby? With Fletcher?”

  3

  WHY, OH WHY, had she opened her mouth about her plans? Laura could have kicked herself. But seeing her little godson sleeping so sweetly upstairs and knowing that she could have a baby of her own by this time next year had suddenly seemed so overwhelmingly exciting that she hadn’t been able to keep from confiding in her two best friends.

  She hadn’t realized the others had returned to the great room, or that Steffie would shriek out the news.

  Everyone now gaped at her, dumbfounded. Even Fletcher looked surprised, but only because he hadn’t expected to share their plans just yet. He met her troubled gaze, and with a nervous but touchingly proud smile, he moved closer to her in a show of support.

  “I don’t understand,” Tamika said, breaking the stunned silence. “Have you been dating Fletcher? When the hell did that start? You call me every week, and never said a word about it.”

  “How could you and Fletcher be having a baby?” Steffie’s glossy dark hair swung around her piquant face as she shook her head in bewilderment.

  “Are you telling me that he got you pregnant?” B.J. demanded in disbelief, her auburn eyebrows shooting up her pale forehead until they merged with her buzz cut.

  “Wow. A baby,” mused Rory. “You and old Fletch. Cool.”

  “He knocked you up?” Hoss pressed forward with his mighty shoulders squared, his glare at Fletcher a blatant threat. “What’s he gonna do about it?”

  “No, no, wait.” Laura stood up from the sofa and lifted her arms in a calming gesture as Fletcher shifted closer to her. “I guess I’d better explain.”

  She cast a self-conscious glance around the room and became intensely aware of the one person who hadn’t spoken; the one she refused to look directly in the eye. Cort stood with his broad shoulder jammed against the mantel and a brandy snifter clutched in his hand. That hand had frozen halfway to his mouth, his fingers curled in a fist around the delicate stern of his glass.

  “Fletcher has agreed to father my baby,” Laura clarified, speaking to the group at large, “but I’m not pregnant yet. We’ve set an appointment to start trying next week.”

  B.J. choked and spewed beer out of her nose. Steffie’s jaw dropped. Tamika frowned.

  Glass shattered near the fireplace. Cort stood with only the bowl of the snifter in his hand. The stern, it seemed, had cracked. The hearth below glinted with shards and jagged pieces of the snifter’s base.

  He didn’t spare it a glance.

  Laura wouldn’t meet his gaze, but she felt it. His concentrated attention made her skin heat up and her stomach chum. She wished he wasn’t here. Cort and his stirring gazes and drugging kisses had no place in her life—the safe, solid life she’d built for herself and her future baby. The sooner she could put her plan into action, the better.

  “You’ve set an appointment to start trying?” Hoss’s wide forehead crinkled in bewilderment. “If you need an appointment, sugar, I can’t see this relationship working out.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Tamika loudly complained. “Are you and Fletcher in love? Are you getting married?”

  “A baby,” Rory repeated. “You and old Fletch. Who would have thought it?”

  “Why’s everyone so darned surprised?” Fletcher grumbled. “I’ll make a good dad. I coach kids’ baseball every summer.”

  “But I thought you two were just friends,” Tamika said.

  “We are,” Laura confirmed.

  “I mean, platonic friends,” Tamika specified.

  “Exactly.”

  “Then how—?”

  “Oh!” Laura felt her face flush with embarrassment as she realized where much of their confusion lay. “We intend to do it by artificial means.” At the continued blank looks, she expounded, “You know, scientifically. At a clinic.”

  “Not that it’s anyone’s business,” Fletcher muttered.

  “Would anyone like another drink?” Steffie inquired a little too brightly as she took the broken brandy glass from Cort’s hand and nudged the shattered pieces from the hearth into the fireplace with her foot. “Or two? Or three?”

  “Mercy sakes alive!” Tamika planted her hands on her hips. “Isn’t artificial insemination expensive?”

  “A little,” Laura admitted, “but—”

  “Then why do artificial insemination?” A puzzled frown knit Rory’s blond eyebrows. “Save the cash, man. If you guys are sure you want a kid, just go upstairs and—”

  “Why don’t you shut up and play that damn guitar of yours?” Cort suggested to him quietly, ready to strangle Rory with his own ponytail if he finished verbalizing that thought.

  “Fletcher’s right,” Laura proclaimed. “It’s no one’s business how we choose to accomplish our objectives. I shouldn’t have even told you.” She glared at every face—except Cort’s, which she avoided entirely. “I don’t want to hear any more discussion about that aspect of our plan.”

  Only when everyone looked sufficiently abashed did her expression mellow. “Think instead about the end result. A baby! Don’t you see how perfect this will be? Fletcher and I have been friends for fifteen years. We know, really know, how the other thinks and feels about the important issues of life. We’ll be giving our son or daughter a sturdy base that won’t be ripped apart by emotional upheaval or divorce.”

  “Oh, God,” Steffie groaned, burying her face in her hand. “I should have known you’d resort to something like this.”

  “I’m going to ask one more time before I start busting heads,” Tamika warned. “Are you two getting married, or not?”

  “No! That’s the beauty of it. Our parenting alliance will be based on mutual respect, not...whimsy.” Laura’s color deepened, and she added, “Or, worse, sex.”

  An invisible hand tightened around Cort’s throat. She hadn’t as much as glanced his way, but he felt as if she’d pointed at him as an example of a past sexual disaster. She’d used the word whimsy earlier to describe the lesson she’d learned from him.

  Was he to blame for this? Had his callous dismissal of their affair set her against sexual relationships altogether? Had her disillusionment at such a young age turned her to science to father her child—and to Fletcher? The hand around Cort’s throat squeezed with a vengeance.

  “We’ll go on living the way we have been.” She settled down onto the sofa and Fletcher sat beside her. “Friends and partners. We’ll share custody and live within walking distance of each other, as we do right now. And we’ll bring up our child in the faith we both happen to share. What can be more perfect?”

  “A happy marriage?” suggested Steffie.

  “Oh, come on, Stef,” Laura admonished softly. “You know how rare an animal that is.”

  Steffie flushed, unable to argue. She had, after all, just come through a divorce herself.

  “All of us know how painful it can be for a child growing up in a broken home,” Laura said, “or with parents so resentful of each other that they spend all their time trying to spite the other.”

  No one could deny that she had a point. They’d all come from famili
es whose relationships were less than blissful. Their lack of satisfying family ties had been the common denominator that had drawn them together in the first place.

  “Well, call me old-fashioned, but I believe in love and marriage,” Tamika declared, “and having children in wedlock.”

  “Of course you do,” Laura replied patiently. “You’re one of the rare, lucky few who are happily married. But that’s only because you’ve known Hoss for so long. You’ve developed a good, strong friendship over the years, just like mine and Fletcher’s.”

  “It’s not like yours and Fletcher’s,” argued Tamika.

  “It is! Well, minus the sex. Which, in the grand scheme of things, is really a minor detail.”

  “Minor detail!” Hoss turned an outraged frown to Tamika. “Did she say ‘minor detail’?”

  “Calm down, Hoss.” His wife patted his arm with an affectionate smirk. “She didn’t mean it as a slur against you.”

  “Minor detail,” he muttered. He narrowed his eyes at Laura. “Who the hell have you been sleeping with, girl?”

  “No one, I’ll bet,” Steffie retorted.

  “Steffie!” Laura stared at her in reproach, clearly embarrassed.

  “It’s true, isn’t it? When was the last time you had a real relationship with a man?”

  Laura rose from the sofa with her lips compressed and an angry, wounded expression in her eyes. “I can’t believe this.” Her soft voice shook as she looked around the room. “I expected you, our best friends, to be happy about our news. To share in our joy of starting a family. But no. Here you are, acting like a bunch of high school kids, focusing on...on sex!”

  “Or lack thereof,” B.J. quipped dryly.

  “Oh, Laur, I’m so sorry!” Steffie’s eyes shone with contrition as she enfolded Laura in a hug. “Of course I’m happy for you. We’re all happy for you. You’ll make a wonderful mother, and Fletcher will be a great dad. And we all want to be good aunts and uncles.”

  “We’re just worried about this...this sudden decision,” Tamika gently added.

  “It’s a crazy, harebrained scheme,” Hoss insisted. “Sex ain’t no minor detail.”

  Laura drew away from Steffie and rounded on Hoss. “Sex is entirely beside the point!”

  “She’s right.”

  Cort’s quiet proclamation plunged the room into stunned silence—maybe because no one had expected him to contribute to the conversation...or to take that particular stand.

  He leveled a cool stare at Laura, whom he’d surprised into actually looking at him. “Sex is beside the point,” he agreed, strolling from the fireplace to join the group, “unless it causes a problem in your relationship some time down the road.”

  “It won’t,” Laura quietly swore.

  As Cort advanced, she sat down again on the sofa beside Fletcher, as if she needed his nearness for moral support.

  Cort fought to suppress a scowl. Why the hell had she chosen Fletcher to play such a pivotal role? The father af her baby. The very idea filled Cort with aversion. He knew what that role would mean to Laura. She’d be bound to him in an utterly profound way for the rest of her life.

  He lowered himself into an armchair directly across from them. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to play the devil’s advocate for a moment.” No one voiced an objection. “What will happen if—or rather, when—either of you becomes involved with someone else? Don’t you think that might create the exact kind of emotional turmoil you’re trying to avoid?”

  “No,” Laura maintained, “because we’re friends, not lovers. There won’t be any jealousy or heartbreak. Fletcher is free to engage in any relationship he wants. He’s been involved in quite a few already, with women I’ve admired very much, and it hasn’t caused the least problem between us.”

  “What if he became involved with someone you didn’t admire? Or someone who resented you and your child’s role in his life? Wouldn’t you feel that relationship might threaten your child’s happiness?”

  “I trust Fletcher’s judgment. He wouldn’t become involved with anyone like that. I also know that he′ll put the welfare of our child first and foremost in his life.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “He will!”

  Cort shifted his gaze away from an indignant Laura. Raising one eyebrow, he asked Fletcher, “What about you? Would you have a problem with Laura becoming... involved...with someone else?”

  Fletcher stared at Cort as if he suspected a trap. “I want her to be happy,” he replied slowly. “I would never object to any relationship that makes her happy.”

  Cort nodded, duly impressed. “That’s noble of you.” He leaned forward, his forearms braced on his knees, his gaze drilling into Fletcher’s. “But you haven’t exactly answered my question. I didn’t ask if you would object.” Patiently, he rephrased his question. “Would it disturb you to know that she was sleeping with someone else?”

  The attention directed at Fletcher suddenly grew intense. Everyone seemed to be scrutinizing him, ready to evaluate the honesty of his answer. Everyone, that was, except Laura, who kept a steady, confident gaze on Cort. She clearly had no doubt about what Fletcher’s reply would be, or its validity.

  Cort wondered if anyone but him noticed the slight flaring of Fletcher’s nostrils or the tightening of his bottom lip. ″No,” Fletcher finally answered. “It wouldn’t disturb me.”

  The man was lying through his teeth.

  Cort allowed a few beats of doubt-heavy silence to pass. Then he smiled—a slow, truce-making smile that had served him well in the boardrooms of the world’s wealthiest conglomerates. “Well, then. If that’s true, let me be the first to wish you luck with your parenting plan.” He extended his hand to Fletcher.

  Fletcher blinked, clearly surprised, as if he’d been expecting much more resistance. “Thanks.” A flush of relief seeped into his bearded face as he shook Cort’s hand.

  Cort noticed similar expressions of surprise in the glances the others cast his way, including Laura’s. He leaned back in the armchair. “In fact, I’ll go one better than just wishing you luck. I’d like to help you get off to the best possible start.”

  Questions formulated in every pair of eyes.

  “What do you mean by ‘help’?” asked Fletcher.

  “Businesswise. I believe Steffie told me that you’re in antiques, Fletcher, and that Laura’s in interior design. You’re thinking of merging your businesses and buying a commercial building together. Is that right?”

  Fletcher nodded. Laura didn’t respond, obviously reluctant to discuss her business with him. A refreshing change from the norm, Cort had to admit. Since he’d made his fortune, people had more or less stalked him for the chance to discuss their business ventures.

  “I have a sizable chunk of capital that’s recently been freed up,” Cort said, “and I’m looking to reinvest it.” There was no mistaking the flare of interest in Fletcher’s gaze. “I wouldn’t mind investing in an up-and-coming business like yours. And I wouldn’t doubt that you’d be able to use my financial backing.”

  They stared at him while absorbing the impact of his offer. Financial backing wasn’t easy to come by for small retail shops and artistic-service businesses, as Cort well knew.

  Laura finally gifted him with a smile—a small, grateful, but regretful smile. “That’s very kind of you, Cort, but we really don’t need—”

  “How sizable an investment?” Fletcher shifted forward on the sofa, a new, aggressive edge to his voice.

  Cort shrugged. “Five hundred thousand to start. More, if the circumstances warrant it.”

  Fletcher drew in a slow, deep breath, then exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Laura, who looked equally shaken at the sum.

  Slowly she turned to Cort, her beautiful brown eyes wide with bewilderment. “Why? Why would you offer us this?”

  “Because, contrary to what you might believe...” he locked his gaze with hers, allowing her no escape “...I do care about your happiness, Laura.�
��

  Her lips parted, her chest rose. Her eyes darkened with some troubled, chaotic emotion.

  He wanted very much to kiss her.

  “Oh, Cort, you’re wonderful!” Steffie cried from where she sat on the arm of B.J.’s chair. “I knew you cared about these guys.” She turned a radiant face to the others. “He just gets so wrapped up in business that he forgets to show it.”

  Laura caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away from Steffie.

  Cort forced his attention away from Laura’s bottom lip and spoke again to Fletcher. “As much as I love to please my sister,” he said with a small, self-deprecating smile, “I’m not going to pretend my motives are selfless. I happen to enjoy championing new businesses. Feeding them. Watering them. Watching them grow.” He allowed his shoulders to sink deeper into the chair and extended his legs more comfortably in front of him. “Plus, I expect to harvest some healthy financial returns.”

  Fletcher looked almost faint with excitement, though he tried to maintain a facade of sophistication. “W-would you expect a controlling interest? I mean, Laura and I planned to merge our sole proprietorships into one corporation, but I don’t believe we’d be interested in sharing the control with anyone else.” He didn’t sound very firm on that point. He wouldn’t make a very good poker player.

  Or a good father for Laura’s baby. Every minute that ticked by only strengthened that conviction in Cort.

  “Before we finalize my investment,” he replied, “I’ll need to approve your plans for spending the money. But as far as your business itself goes, I don’t want an active role in it. We’ll spell out my expectations in the contract. A percentage of the profits. Stock options. Franchise rights. That sort of thing.”

  Fletcher bestowed another glance on Laura. A speaking glance. An imploring glance. Tiny frown lines gathered between her golden eyebrows and she chewed the bottom corner of her lip, her uncertainty almost painful to behold.

  Fletcher swung his attention back to Cort. “We were thinking of buying the building we’re in, but there’s a renovated mansion nearer to the river that would make the perfect antique shop...and a showcase where Laura could base her design business.”