Her Christmas Future

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  And then, when he joined her, didn’t do it.

  It was one thing to let down her emotional guard with him when they were on the phone. And quite another, apparently, when his tall frame was flesh and blood beside her, looking all sexy and successful in a dark suit and red tie.

  “It’s not a formal occasion,” she said, realizing even as she did so that her nervousness was showing.

  “Since you’re working, I filled my schedule for the day,” he told her. He’d met her gaze once. She’d looked away first.

  And that seemed to set the tone. There’d be no intimacy between them during the appointment ahead. No opening of emotional wells.

  Too much risk of an overflow that could drown them.

  Drown her.

  Beth had already been called back to prepare for the ultrasound by the time they were inside. Since the clinic wasn’t open for other patients that day, only a receptionist, the ultrasound technician and Beth’s clinic doctor, Cheryl Miller, were there.

  And Christine... She came through the inner door to the reception area before the woman who’d greeted them had even finished her first sentence.

  Making a beeline for Olivia, the pregnant woman hugged her just when Olivia started to feel weak in the knees. “You’ve got this, my friend,” Christine said, pulling back, looking Olivia in the eye. “Just like you told me, you want to do this.”

  You want to do this. They were the words she’d said to Christine when her friend had been telling herself that she couldn’t possibly be a surrogate mother to a baby as a favor to a man who’d lost his wife—the baby’s biological mother.

  It had been a hard choice. A seemingly impossible one. But she’d known Christine needed to try.

  Smiling, Olivia nodded, and Martin stepped forward. “Christine, this is Martin,” she said, watching for her friend’s first impression of the man she’d been hearing about for years but never met.

  “Good to meet you.” Christine held out her hand, shook Martin’s and smiled. “Good to know you aren’t a ghost.”

  “Excuse me?” Martin cocked his head in that way he had when he was trying to size up a situation.

  “I’ve been hearing about you for years,” the clinic owner said. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

  Martin nodded, said something pleasant. Olivia wasn’t sure what exactly as the ultrasound technician stood in the doorway. “We’re ready,” she said.

  Oh God. They were ready.

  Olivia wasn’t. She’d thought she was. She’d had strength from the moment she opened her eyes that morning.

  Christine squeezed her hand. And then Martin took ahold of it and didn’t let go. “Let’s go be parents,” he said to her. “Because no matter what happens next, we made a viable embryo, and you did everything you could to keep it safe.”

  If she hadn’t already been in love with him, she’d have fallen hard in that moment.

  Didn’t matter that they’d failed at marriage. And at being divorced. Didn’t matter that they couldn’t even figure out how to be friends.

  All that mattered was that he was there.

  * * *

  If ever there were a time when he felt like a fraud, it was as Martin walked back to the ultrasound room with Olivia, holding her hand like they were a couple.

  Like he had a right to do so.

  The woman who’d hugged his wife had disappeared in another direction. He’d heard of her, of course, recently, when Olivia had talked about the embryo transfer. He’d had no idea the two were close friends.

  And had been for years apparently, based on the fact that Christine knew all about him.

  He knew nothing about her. Except that she was clearly pregnant.

  And that she figured into Olivia’s confidences, had her trust, in a way Martin never had.

  Before he could process any further, they were shown into a shadowy room with Beth lying on a padded table, watching them enter. She reached out a hand to Olivia, who let go of Martin to go stand by the other woman’s side. Beth’s stomach was exposed from her ribs to her pelvis, with her leggings and T-shirt pushed down and up to accommodate the test.

  He’d been to several ultrasounds before—they’d had them weekly toward the end of Olivia’s pregnancy with Lily—but technology had changed a lot in ten years.

  As he well knew. Technology was his field.

  Ultrasounds and babies and women who had them were not.

  “You ready?” Beth asked Olivia, her brows drawn in concern, but a smile on her face. Their surrogate wiggled her feet, like she was revving up to run a race.

  “I’m ready,” Olivia told her. As the technician began to rub the cold gel on Beth’s belly, Martin kept his eyes on Olivia. The stark, emotionless expression on her face. The doctor had entered the room and he envied her that.

  He had no bedside manner upon which to pull. He was Martin Wainwright, a lover of most people, no matter what room he was in.

  But lover only to one. For the past while. Maybe forever.

  In that moment it mattered.

  “Okay, here we go. If you watch up here...” The technician, a youngish woman, thirty or so, with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail and wearing light blue scrubs, pointed to a large monitor turned so that they could all see it. And then lowered her probe to Beth’s skin.

  He glanced at the screen long enough to see clear white fuzz, and then focused on Olivia. Her lips were pinched, but she appeared to be the essence of calm. Until he saw the whites of her fingertips as she held Beth’s hand.

  The technician lifted the probe, put it back down, moved it around. He could follow the motions with peripheral vision as he continued to watch his ex-wife. He was there for her. Ready to step up and take hold if she lost her composure.

  And knowing that he had to let her get through the next moments in her own way. To cope on her own.

  Clearly the technician was having trouble finding anything to land on.

  As though there was no fetus growing there.

  No one said a word. The silence was about to kill him. He could hardly breathe. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Olivia. Not to him.

  Not again.

  Maybe it hadn’t been an issue with her uterus, after all. Maybe it had been his sperm. And because of him she’d be going through hell a second time.

  And so would he.

  He’d been so sure that everything would be okay. So worried about how to fit being a father into his life.

  What in the hell had he done?

  He should have been celebrating from the second Olivia had told him she’d saved their embryo. That was his child they were trying to find in there.

  Find it! His mind said the words forcefully. And then hollered them. Damn it! Find it!

  On a second pass, there was still nothing. On the third, lower on Beth’s stomach, the handheld device found enough to stop, hover and then start a slow circular motion in the same area.

  “There,” the technician said. And stopped, writing something down. She did the same thing another time. And another. Taking measurements? He hoped.

  He had no way of knowing if she was finding a two-month gestated fetus or a sac that was going to miscarry. Beth was watching, her face serious, completely silent. And Olivia appeared to be frozen over there, staring at the screen.

  No one was saying anything.

  And there was a very clear absence of smiles in the room.

  There was movement on the screen. He told himself that was a good thing. He just honestly had no idea if the movement was the baby or Beth’s internal organs. If he looked hard, he could pretend he saw arms and legs, a head and torso, but in truth he saw various lighter and darker shadows that could really depict any number of things.

  He wanted the longish darker outlined spot to be a torso. Kept going back to it. Over and
over. Olivia’s face, then that spot. He suddenly wanted that thing to be his baby’s body more than he could remember wanting anything in his life.

  He needed someone to say something. To ask something. To know something. But couldn’t bear to be the bringer of bad answers into the room, fearing they’d pull out all the air, suffocate him.

  “We can try to find a heartbeat,” the technician said then. “But it’s possible we won’t be able to get it.”

  Martin fell back against the wall. There was no chair for him to collapse on. The news was bad. Obviously whatever Olivia had seen, whatever the technician had seen, hadn’t been great if they weren’t sure there was a heartbeat.

  That blob could have been his baby’s torso, but perhaps it hadn’t grown enough. Because it had stopped growing?

  Or was it just small? Maybe the baby could still be alive and just be small?

  He stood up straight.

  She’d said they could try for a heartbeat.

  She wouldn’t have said that if she’d been certain that the fetus was dead. No one would be that cruel.

  And...they had a neonatologist in the room. Martin glanced at Olivia, needing to absorb her pain so he didn’t feel any of his own. Hers he could handle.

  She was watching him, her brow crunched, and held out her free hand to him. He could feel Beth’s gaze on him as he moved closer but had eyes only for his ex-wife. Her gaze drew him.

  Her need drew him.

  As soon as their skin touched, he took a breath. And another. Only just realizing he’d been holding it. That the constriction of muscles in his chest had stopped air flow.

  The technician had been pushing the probe around, doing whatever, he didn’t know. He just watched Olivia and took strength from the times she glanced from the screen back to him.

  He heard a sudden gurgling sound, like someone had sucked in, and steadied himself, watching only Olivia, keeping himself strong so that when she looked at him, she’d be able to feed off his strength. There was a second gurgle. Definitely not a heartbeat sound...

  But then it came again, more of a slurp than a gurgle. And again. And again. And again.

  In rhythm.

  Olivia was crying. Beth was crying. The technician was crying.

  And so was he.

  They had a live fetus.

  He was going to be a father.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “We have to talk.” Olivia glanced at Martin as he murmured the words to her on the way out to the clinic’s waiting room and exit to the parking lot.

  With Beth and the doctor talking behind them, she nodded her agreement.

  They both had recordings of the baby’s heartbeat on their phones. Had digital copies of the ultrasound images there, too. They’d been in to see the doctor and heard that the fetus was measuring in the average percentile for two months’ gestation, though Olivia had already read that for herself during the ultrasound. Just as she’d seen that everything else looked as normal as normal could get.

  She had a healthy baby!

  At two months.

  Lily had appeared a bit small, but normal, too, during the first ultrasound.

  And it was time to get off the treadmill they’d been running for too many years. Time to move forward.

  Together or apart.

  And not just for the baby, though definitely the pregnancy had become their catalyst.

  They had a heartbeat!

  She had no bill to take care of that day. No business to tend to. Christine had given her a tight hug as they’d come out of the ultrasound room on the way to see the doctor, and she’d already left. Olivia had thanked Beth so many times she’d probably come across like she was babbling. Had already confirmed the time for dinner the next day.

  So there was nothing to do but walk out of the clinic with Martin.

  And face their future.

  “What are you doing for Christmas morning?” she asked him, as though she could buy herself just a few more minutes.

  He shrugged. “Relaxing. I’m looking forward to it.” He wasn’t smiling, but there was something new about him. An energy. A sense of...purpose?

  “Alone?” She tried to meet his gaze, but the sun was bright and he’d put on his shades. Pulling hers out of her purse, she did the same.

  “I think so,” he said. “I had a couple of brunch invitations, but... I’m just not feeling it.” Cocking his head, he added, “We’ll see. I can always change my mind.”

  “Come to my place.”

  Dumb words, she was sure of it. And left the invitation out there. They had a shared heartbeat. “Tonight, if you’d like,” she continued. “I’m working until eight, so Sylvia’s hanging with friends. She’ll be over first thing in the morning with breakfast casserole.”

  He stopped. Turned until he was facing her. “You’re inviting me to spend the night with you.”

  They’d had sex on Thanksgiving. One more time wouldn’t make much difference. But that honestly wasn’t her plan.

  “We need to talk,” she told him. “We can’t keep putting it off.”

  She’d heard a heartbeat!

  And the life she’d saved deserved a healthy, secure, consistent home environment.

  Not a love affair.

  His slow, serious nod put dread in her heart where she so desperately needed hope.

  * * *

  They made love first. As soon as Martin walked in the door of her condo, his overnight satchel still slung over his shoulder, he put an arm around Olivia and pulled her to him.

  She’d recently showered. Her long hair smelled like roses and still had some damp strands. And she was wearing black cotton pajama pants and a pink-and-black long-sleeved T-shirt that matched. He knew the brand without even looking. From the time he’d known her, Olivia had only worn one brand of underwear, bras and pajamas.

  Her lips met his openly, with hunger, and, dropping his bag, he pulled her completely into his arms, needing to devour her. To wipe out all thought of saying goodbye.

  “This is the one thing we always got right,” he murmured against her lips before picking her up and carrying her to the sectional couch in her living room. The furniture closest to where they were standing.

  The Christmas lights were on in the otherwise dark room, giving the space a colorful, muted glow, and he memorized every inch of her skin as he undressed her. No matter where his life took him, he’d never hold in his arms a woman who affected him as Olivia did. Who was as beautiful to him as she was.

  Who raised such a mixture of protectiveness and passion within him.

  He’d failed her before. He’d known that for years. But throughout that day, after having seen her with Christine that morning, he’d finally realized exactly how he’d done so. He’d worshipped her. He just hadn’t been a friend to her. He’d been her champion, her warrior, her protector—he hadn’t been her partner.

  And she hadn’t been his, either.

  Their lives existed in two different spheres.

  They didn’t speak just then—the words waiting to be said weren’t lovemaking words. They both knew that. The choices waiting for them weren’t going to be easy.

  But he’d sensed, as soon as they’d walked out of that ultrasound room with their recordings, that they both knew their time had come to make those choices.

  They’d held on as long as they could.

  And after he donned his condom, felt the pulsing of her pleasure and came inside her, he knew it was time to let her go.

  * * *

  “I sent a copy of the recording to Sylvia.” Olivia broke the silence that had fallen over a room that felt sacred, the Christmas tree lights their only source of illumination. Martin, who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch from her, had put his pants and shirt back on, but the shirt was unbuttoned.

  She
stared at his chest hair as she spoke, remembering the feel of it beneath her cheek as she’d lain on him—so many times over the years.

  “How does she feel about becoming a grandmother?” he asked, speaking as softly as she had. As though they could usher in the hard stuff in a way that wouldn’t kill them.

  “Good.” Olivia smiled. “She called as soon as she heard the recording and was crying, too. She’s thrilled...and...worried about me, too, I suppose. She says it’s all part of being a mother.”

  And she was only just beginning to realize how very lucky she was to have a woman so wise in her life. She’d judged her mother harshly. Wrongly.

  “I’m almost as old as she is.”

  Six years. That was the age difference between her mother and the father of her child. The idea didn’t seem nearly as shocking to her as it had when she was in college and was just getting to know Sylvia. Maybe she’d grown used to it. Maybe she just didn’t care so much anymore.

  “Yeah,” she said. “That used to bother me, you know. I knew that some of my friends, and my mother, thought you were too old for me and it bothered me even though I pretended it didn’t. They saw the problems ahead of us. I didn’t want to see them.”

  Another truth she’d never shared with him.

  “It doesn’t bother you anymore?”

  Her shrug was the only honest answer she had. “Does it matter?”

  “Maybe.”

  She thought about his question again. “It bothers me that you think you’re too old to be a father.” He wasn’t. There were a lot of men having children in their forties. And fifties and sixties, too. But just because someone else did it didn’t mean it was right for him.

  “I am a father,” he told her, looking her in the eye now. “It’s not a question anymore.”

  Her heart started to pound. What was he telling her?

  “I listened to that recording over and over today,” he said.

  “I did, too.”

  “It’s a miracle.”