In the end, he drove around the city for hours, visiting areas where he’d never been, parts of town he frequented regularly, areas he’d been but didn’t visit often, including the old neighborhood where he’d grown up. It had been the recipient of a city grant and was now a thriving middle-class area with small but nice houses with lights shining from them, set in the midst of mowed yards with flower beds.
He ended up outside the gate in front of the house he’d lived in when he met Olivia. The house they’d shared. The house with the nursery that Lily had never been home to inhabit. Parked across the street, he looked up to the second-floor window in the distance, visible through the trees that were scattered around the acre of front yard. It was the master suite light.
He’d sold the home to an investor but had heard that it had been purchased again since. He had no idea who lived there now. If they had kids.
As the light upstairs went out, he remembered the night Olivia had told him she was ready to try to start the family he so badly wanted. They’d gone upstairs to bed, and he was nude and ready under the covers, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom, picturing her in the new teddy she’d ordered and had told him had arrived that day.
She’d been in underwear and a bra instead as she’d come running into the room, flipping on a light as she did so. She’d held a little white stick in her hand, and the glow in her eyes, the energy pulsing all around, had been completely captivating. “I took a test and I’m ovulating.”
From that second on he’d needed to protect her as fiercely as he’d ever protected anything. Was she comfortable, eating right, sick to her stomach? Could he rub her shoulders or her back? Did she need him to do anything for her? Because she was doing the ultimate for him—she was willing to grow his baby inside her. Something he could never, ever do himself.
He was in awe of her.
In love with her.
Couldn’t stand to be away from her.
She wasn’t carrying his baby this time around. And didn’t seem to need him for anything. As far as he could tell, she was planning to go on with her life as normal until after the first trimester, and then...she was planning to go on with her life without him.
She had to. They’d called it quits.
He still knew it had been the right thing to do.
He just had no idea what the future needed of him. Was greatly bothered by the idea that whatever it was, he might not be asked. If he didn’t figure it out on his own, he’d fail in providing it.
If Olivia ever remarried, her new husband would be the likely father to her child. He’d figured that out after she’d left the night before. A man in his early thirties would be more apt to be up for the twenty-year commitment raising a child required. He’d definitely be better able to run for touchdown passes, and probably better at sitting up all night worrying about parties and sex and drugs when the kid was in high school and missed curfew, too.
She hadn’t said anything about another man in her life. Ever. But he’d probably made it plain to her multiple times over the years how very much he didn’t want to know.
She’d been offended that he’d think she’d slept with him when she was planning to marry another man, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t another one in her life. Only that she hadn’t fully committed to him yet.
Maybe the baby would be the impetus the guy needed to ask. Or a reason for her to ask sooner than she might have done. Nothing said the man had to do the asking.
He was getting morose. The house seemed to have that effect on him—one of the reasons he’d moved out and sold the place.
A car came up behind him, slowing as it passed, and not wanting to make residents suspicious or uncomfortable, he put his luxury SUV in gear and headed on down the road.
Leaving the past behind.
* * *
Olivia had just come from an emergency on the unit Saturday—not Baby V, but still one that she’d managed to treat with some measure of success—when her phone rang. The small sleeping room attached to her office, large enough only for the twin bed and small nightstand it held, beckoned, but she grabbed the phone out of her pocket immediately. She was on call.
It wasn’t her hospital phone ringing. Reaching into her other pocket, she grabbed her personal cell quickly, as though the ringing would disturb someone. Heart in her throat, she checked to see if Beth was calling. If there’d been some kind of emergency.
When she saw Martin’s ID, she knew she had to calm down. It wasn’t fair to anyone, not herself, the baby, Beth or any of her patients, for her to overreact to stimuli for the next nine months. Not that her patients were suffering. Or would suffer. When she was with a patient it was like she was a different person. Better than herself. More capable. That sense of superior ability was one of the reasons she loved her job. It was like every time she held another person’s life in her hands, she knew she could handle the job.
She had to find a way to bring that same sense of confidence into her personal life. Had to assume that everything was going to be fine. And to know that she only had to deal with bad news if it happened, and when it happened—just as she counseled her families.
Telling and doing were so not at all the same thing.
“Hello?” She answered on the fifth ring, slipping out of her flats. The scrubs would eventually go in the can by the door. A cupboard next to it was filled with clean ones. A lot of hospital personnel handled their own uniforms. She had a service take care of hers.
She wished at the moment that she had someone to take care of the Martin situation for her, too. She couldn’t ask him for help in that regard—that would put expectation out there and she’d told him that he was free to be as uninvolved as he wished.
She couldn’t really talk any of it over with him, either, for the same reason. But if they didn’t talk about who he was going to be in the child’s life, or what part he wanted to play, how did she plan her future?
She’d had calls from two lawyers—his and hers—before she’d even arrived at work the previous morning because he’d already taken care of something she’d told him she’d do.
“Is this a bad time?”
After nine on a Saturday night wasn’t a good time to hear from your ex who’d just told you he never wanted to see you again and then turned around and relegated remarriage to a shelf.
“I’m at the hospital tonight,” she told him, adding, “On call,” lest he think she was in the middle of a traumatic emergency. “I’m in my office, ready to lay down and get some sleep.” In case a little one went into stress in the middle of the night or was born in the middle of the night needing immediate attention.
“Thank you for getting the papers done so quickly.”
All she’d done was sign on her designated lines. The lawyers and Beth and Martin had done the rest.
Her surrogate had called her before signing, though. Beth hadn’t been about to sign anything unless Olivia was completely on board. She wasn’t going to be a part of Olivia being coerced.
The woman’s concern, though misplaced, had been sweet. And had warmed her, in spite of how unnecessary it had been. Beth didn’t seem to understand that Olivia was a respected specialist who handled trauma like most people handled groceries. With care. But also regularly and well.
“I need to meet the surrogate. Beth Applegate. And would prefer to have her husband, Brian, present, as well,” he said. “I’m told it’s within my parental rights, now that I’m being officially added to the paperwork. The lawyers offered to set it up, but I don’t want to barge in here. This is your deal.”
Like he hadn’t barged in with the paperwork? The pithy response came to her, but she was tired, and knew better than to voice pettiness. She was better than that and he didn’t deserve it. Still... “I was going to handle the paperwork, Martin.”
His silence made her feel somewhat better.
“I was trying to help,” he said.
In the past, he’d done things the same way: taking over. His experience gave him better perspective. It was true. But experience and perspective weren’t all that went into making choices.
“I know.” They’d had the discussion more times than she could count over the years. He was who he was. And she was a woman entrusted with lives; she needed to be respected as someone who could take care of things.
“I figured I screwed up ten minutes after I’d set the wheels in motion.”
“A phone call would have been nice,” she replied.
“Point taken.”
She hated how he took control. But loved that he cared. That he was responsible and reliable. That he had her back.
“We spoke on Thursday about my meeting with Beth Applegate, but we got sidetracked. And this is me now not barreling ahead on my own, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I noticed.” Dropping down to the couch, she curled her feet up beneath her. “Beth called me before she signed the papers yesterday,” she told him. “So how do you want to work this? You just want my okay and then have your lawyer set something up with hers?”
“I was hoping you’d set something up and come with me.” He sounded almost like a kid, needing assistance, and it dawned on her that he was unsure of himself. And had been on Thursday, as well.
She’d seen him frustrated. Happy. Confident. Grieving...
She couldn’t remember ever seeing Martin Wainwright be unsure of himself. And eased up a bit on her defensiveness where he was concerned.
“It’s awkward,” he said when she didn’t immediately respond. “Hi, I’m Martin, thank you for carrying the baby my ex-wife and I created...”
She didn’t quite smile, but almost. Scooting down so she was half lying back, she moved her shoulders around until they were comfortable.
“And it’s not like we’re a couple, doing this together. They know that, right? Since you started out doing it on your own. But now maybe they’ll think we’re back together and—”
“They don’t.” She had to put the man out of his misery. Or at least shut him up for a second. “Beth knows the situation.” As well as anyone did, she figured.
“I’m glad someone does. Would you mind filling me in?” There was no sarcasm in his tone. He sounded more lost than anything.
“As soon as I figure it out,” she told him quietly. She was tired. Had just saved a baby from dying—for the moment. The prognosis on that night’s patient wasn’t overly good.
Which was where miracles needed to come in.
“What do you expect from me?”
There they were...the expectations... Hers and his hadn’t coexisted well before.
“Honestly, Martin? Nothing. I’m not even sure what to expect from myself at the moment. This is all happening so fast, and completely contrary to my life plan. But I have to say, when I let myself picture a crib with a healthy baby in it, in my home... I’m realizing that there’s nothing I want more. I didn’t think I’d ever get here, that I’d ever want to even try to have a family again. And while I wouldn’t ever make the choice to consciously go make one, because I know all of the things that can go wrong and I’d rather live alone for the rest of my life than risk that again, I’m finding that...faced with the possibility of a healthy baby, a child that will grow into a healthy adult... I’m...excited.”
His silence didn’t feel comfortable.
He hadn’t asked about her feelings about the baby.
Expectations. He needed his parameters. Like always.
“I’m not expecting anything from you.” She finally got to a place where the truth was okay. “If I never hear from you again, then I don’t. I’m making my plans as though I won’t.”
“Would you rather I back away? That I not be involved?”
If that’s what he wanted.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“What are you saying?”
“That you can’t put this on me. You have to figure out for yourself what your role is, what your parameters are, who you are in this situation.” And then she had to amend her great truth. “I guess I do have a couple of expectations. I expect you to figure it out. And to tell me when you do, so I can make room for whatever you decide.”
That was it. She felt lighter. Easier.
“Tell me one thing...”
“If I can.”
“Do you want me involved?”
She shook her head, even though it was awkward with her position, even though he couldn’t see. “No way, Martin. You aren’t putting this choice on me.”
“Let me rephrase that. If I choose to be involved, beyond the financial obligation for which I’m already fully committed, will that bother you?”
She knew the answer. Tried to decide if giving it to him somehow made her culpable of trying to sway him or wrap him around her little finger, or whatever it was he’d said to her over the years.
Decided that it was a fair question.
“No,” she said. “It won’t bother me.” To the contrary. She welcomed anything he wanted to give to them—her and her embryo. Anything he had for the mother and child.
Not for the woman in her.
He didn’t respond and she was reminded of the man who’d been there, but so seemingly absent in his apartment two days before. This was a new side to Martin. A new Martin. One who seemed to need assistance from her. Not just love, or adoration, or sex.
“So...what kind of involvement are you thinking about?”
“None.”
Okay, then. That shouldn’t hurt her feelings. She’d had no expectations.
“Except to meet the surrogate,” she reminded him.
“Right.”
“You sure you want to do that?”
“Absolutely.”
Which was involvement.
“Maybe we should just take this one situation at a time for now,” she suggested, needing to help him. Not because of the baby. But because he was the only man she’d ever loved and she’d always want to help him. He’d just never seemed to need it before.
“Okay. Good. Yeah, that sounds good. So, for now, I should meet Beth and Brian. Are you okay to arrange that? And to be there?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He gave her a rundown of his schedule for the next several days. And then told her he’d rearrange anything he could or cancel what he could if he had to.
“I’m sure we can work something out for when you’re free,” she told him.
“Good.” It was the third “good” he’d given her in as many seconds. Or close to it.
“I’ll call her tomorrow and get back with you,” she said then, knowing their conversation had to end, but not wanting him to be gone from the other end of the line.
“Good. Sounds good.”
And that was it. Their baby business was done and he hung up.
But when she went in to lie down for whatever time she’d have, she kept hearing him saying “good.” And realized that for the first time in a long time, she wanted more than just good from him. And for their lives, together or not.
Chapter Twelve
Martin worked fourteen hours on Sunday before attending a cocktail party that night to honor a newly elected politician who was supportive of legislation that would give tax breaks to Fishnet’s facilities. Since his organization wasn’t a school, and wasn’t part of the foster care system, but rather held guardianships until their kids turned eighteen or had agreements with the custodial parents, much like a boarding school would, they didn’t fit into existing tax break parameters in a lot of areas. He was hoping to see that fixed.
And on Monday, since Olivia had said she’d make th
e appointment with the Applegates to coincide with his schedule, he was flying to London for a series of meetings there to finalize plans for an exchange student program. And then it was on to Washington to lobby for funding for boarding of at-risk kids. As things currently stood, when underage kids came to Fishnet, because it was a private organization with ample funds, the young adults no longer qualified for welfare or some of the other government assistance programs. He was also meeting with a grant board while he was there and doing a friend a favor and speaking at a gathering of Ivy League techie grads about the dot-com he’d created as a poor college kid barely getting by.
In exchange, his friend was writing a sizable check to Fishnet.
There were dozens of other things on his schedule. A side trip to New York. And to Boston. Dinners. Parties. Financial meetings and meetings with officials to expand Fishnet into three more cities on the east coast. And then back to LA for a movie premiere.
He traveled alone, and yet, other than his time in the air or the few minutes he had in his hotel suites, he didn’t have a minute, or a meal, to himself.
His choice. His life fulfilled him. Energized him.
He wasn’t ever lonely or bored.
Or if he was, he was too busy to notice.
The week progressed as planned; his meetings were successful. He was using his life to leave the world, particularly the underserved young adults in it, a better place to grow and thrive. He was parenting in the way he could and was good at it.
And he kept waiting for Olivia to call. She’d texted once, to say that the Applegates were free Sunday, a week and a day after they’d talked. True to her word, she’d worked things around his schedule. She’d done what she’d said she’d do.
And nothing more.
Which left him far too much mental space for speculation apparently. The seconds throughout the day where his brain had a moment to itself, he’d think of Olivia, wondering how she was handling the idea of massive change to her life. Was she managing her fears?
He’d see a mother or a baby and be reminded that he had a child coming into the world. And draw a blank after that.
Her Christmas Future Page 11