The Would-Be Mommy

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Yet she felt glad for him, too. This job was his dream, and he deserved it. “He’s a great guy. I’m sure he’ll do brilliantly.”

  “He always does.” Pride bloomed in his sister’s voice. “Listen, I’ll tell him you called. And I’ll give him your congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  He didn’t call, though. Not that night and not the next day. Nor any day that week.

  It wasn’t the response Jennifer had hoped for, but his silence told the whole story. Ian had moved on.

  She could hardly hold that against him. He’d broken no promises. The excitement of his new position surely overshadowed the few weeks they’d spent together.

  And thanks to him, she had half of her dream. Every day her bond with Rosalie deepened. Watching the little one’s small advances—her strengthening body control, her growing interest in activities around her—providing an endless source of joy.

  Maybe someday the right man would come along, a man whose dreams of home and family matched hers. Just because she couldn’t have that with Ian didn’t mean she was giving up.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A brisk breeze whipped Ian’s hair and the salty air stung his cheeks as he crossed the quay. Had the weather changed in the ten days he’d been gone, or was it always this cool by the ocean?

  He’d stopped by Jennifer’s condo, but found no one home. His own fault; he should have called. So he’d taken a chance that she was following her usual routine of walking with her friends on Saturday mornings, and sure enough, through the coffee shop window up ahead, he saw Samantha sitting at a table. Only the back of Jennifer’s head was visible, dark hair in its usual knot, tendrils teasing at her neck.

  A hot burst of longing drove off the chill. If only he could banish everything else, just be alone with her. But there was too much at stake for him to rush this.

  Ian’s hands felt stiff. Nerves, he supposed. Odd, considering that he confronted people and asked questions for a living. This was different, though. At all kinds of levels.

  That evening a week ago, when Anni gave him Jennifer’s message, he’d been in too much of a hurry to return the call immediately. Later he hadn’t felt ready to say anything until he put the pieces together and made sure they fit.

  He still lacked the final piece. For that, he needed to talk to Jennifer in person.

  Ian held the coffee shop door for a pair of older ladies, then stepped inside. Seeing Samantha’s face register recognition, he raised a hand in greeting.

  When Jennifer swung around, sunlight through the window burnished her skin to velvet. Her eyes were luminous, and her lips parted in surprise. But the welcoming smile he’d anticipated failed to appear.

  She had a right to be annoyed, he reflected, and paused by the stroller. “Hey, Rosalie.” The baby peeked upward uncertainly. “Yeah, it’s me. How’s my favorite baby?”

  She beamed. Somebody was glad to see him, at least.

  “Okay if I join you ladies?” He decided not to bother fetching a cup of coffee. Too much of a delay.

  Jennifer indicated an empty chair. She still didn’t speak.

  “Is this a personal conversation?” Samantha asked. “I can leave.”

  “Actually, it includes you.” He glanced around. “Isn’t there a third member of this band of sisters?”

  “Lori’s out with her fiancé today.” Jennifer found her voice at last. Her gaze barely flicked over him, though. “Ian, what’s this about?”

  No sense beating around the bush. “It concerns a book I plan to write. On women and babies and the issues they face in today’s changing landscape. Fertility, adoption, surrogates, women who have to relinquish babies, women who adopt them.”

  “Fantastic!” Samantha said. “Can I be part of this?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “A book?” A pucker formed between Jennifer’s shapely brows. “What happened to the Flash News/Global promotion?”

  “Before I knew whether I’d landed it or not, I decided to lay a little groundwork for the future.” The explanation poured out, more or less as he’d mentally rehearsed it on the long flight west. “As long as I was in New York, I contacted a friend’s agent. He’d seen the video and read my stories about you and Rosalie. He got very excited, declared it was timely and that I already had the public’s interest, and we should strike while the iron was hot.”

  Ian hoped this didn’t sound opportunistic. He couldn’t read much in Jennifer’s expression. He wouldn’t blame her for being angry that he hadn’t called.

  “Ian, you didn’t propose a book that involves me, did you?” She balled her napkin into a wad. “I’ve already had more exposure than I want.”

  “The book isn’t exactly about you, but your story would serve as a jumping-off point,” he admitted. “Part of the proceeds would go to the clinic, of course.”

  “There’s a lot that desperately needs to be written on this subject,” Samantha commented. “I could help point you in the right direction.”

  Since Jennifer remained pensive, Ian filled in more blanks. “The agent set up pitch sessions. That’s what I was doing all week. I hadn’t realized how much I cared about this topic until I started talking to editors. Ideas just tumbled out of me.”

  “You found a publisher?” Jennifer asked.

  “We haven’t signed a contract yet, but we’ve tentatively agreed on terms,” Ian told her.

  “What if I say no?”

  That was a question he’d asked the agent and the editor. “Legally, I don’t require your permission,” he conceded. “You already gave me the right to use the material from our interviews, and that covers the basics. But I won’t go against your wishes, and the book wouldn’t be nearly as good without your continuing input.”

  “You’d turn this down and go back to reporting?” she asked dubiously.

  “Viktor gave me until Monday to decide whether to take the promotion,” Ian said. “And the publisher understands that I won’t proceed without your consent. This really is up to you.”

  The book wasn’t the only issue at stake. But he refused to do anything that might seem manipulative, and that included using their personal connection to win her approval. She had every right to protect her privacy.

  “Is this really what you want?” she asked at last. “What about roving the globe, digging out hard truths? I thought that was your dream.”

  “This is my dream now.” He hesitated. “Could we continue this conversation at your place? No offense, Dr. Forrest. I’m glad to know I’ll have your support if we proceed with this.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” She glanced at Jennifer and pressed her lips together, as if biting back arguments she longed to present. Instead, she confined her response to a simple “Do whatever you deem best.”

  As Jennifer rose, Ian held himself in check, as well. Every instinct urged him to tease the sadness from the corners of her mouth and tell her how empty New York—the entire planet—felt without her.

  But he respected her too much to do that. The firestorm of publicity that was only beginning to fade would reignite when this book hit the stores. It might affect her future in any number of ways.

  The fact that he yearned to be part of that future would have to wait.

  JENNIFER DIDN’T SEE HOW she could bear this. For the past week she’d tried to push Ian out of her mind, to accept that their brief involvement had ended forever. Now he’d returned, but for the wrong reasons.

  If she turned him down, he’d fly off to write his column. If she agreed, he’d stay—for a while. And after he left, she’d be alone again and even more deeply in love, if that was possible.

  As soon as she’d seen him in the coffee shop, his nearness had blotted out everyone and everything else. For a blinding instant she’d been tempted to run straight to him. Thank goodness she hadn’t.

  In the living room she set Rosalie where the baby could watch them. The infant seemed happiest when observing people and movement.

>   Ian knelt by the carrier. “When did she start doing that?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Flexing her hands. See? It’s like she’s practicing her grip.” He peered closely, and received a poke in the nose for his pains. “Hey! Was that deliberate?”

  “I don’t know,” Jennifer admitted. “Ian, let’s get this over with.”

  Uncertainty filled his gaze. That was an emotion she’d never associated with him. “All right.”

  “I’ll go straight to the point. I can’t do this,” she said.

  He sank onto the couch as if his legs refused to hold him. “I understand.” His voice had a flat, stunned quality.

  Despite her sympathy, Jennifer felt a surge of anger. Why did he have to put her in this position? “I hate throwing cold water on your dreams, but what about mine? Sooner or later, you’ll be gone. My heart isn’t made of steel, Ian. I want more than you can give me.”

  He frowned. “Let’s get back to that part about me being gone. I never said—”

  “Oh, come on. Once this book is done, you’ll crave a new challenge, and you won’t find it here.” Jennifer paced across the room. “Let me tell you my dream. It involves a man who wakes up with me in the morning and goes to sleep with me at night.”

  “I can do that.”

  “For a while, maybe. But can you be here for my daughter as she grows into a woman? Can you be a full-time whatever-you-are and a full-time husband and father at the same time? That isn’t you, Ian.” She hugged herself tightly, trying to contain the pain.

  “I think it is.”

  She hadn’t expected that answer. But it fell short. “You think so?”

  The intensity of his gaze nearly swept her away. “I’ve learned a lot these past few weeks about who I am. For now, this book is what I want to write. After that, I can’t promise I’ll be here every morning and every evening, but in the ways that count, I will always be here for you. Will you give me a chance, Jennifer?”

  “I will always be here for you.” Now it was her knees that felt shaky. She stopped pacing and perched gingerly beside Ian. “I don’t see how I can be satisfied with a long-distance relationship. I want a family, not a warm phone.”

  His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned forward earnestly. “Life is messy, Jen. Take passing up the promotion—not to mention leaving my job. I still don’t know one hundred percent that this is the perfect route for my career. But I am one hundred percent certain that you’re the right woman for me and that Rosalie was meant to be my daughter.”

  Was she truly hearing this? Could the elusive, charismatic Ian Martin be making a commitment to her?

  “Will you accept me as I am, accept a future with me, even though I may not be exactly what you’d planned on?” he pressed. “I promise one thing. You will always be the woman I love.”

  “When the book is finished—”

  “I’ll write another book. The editor and I discussed a whole series about medical advances that affect people’s daily lives. Maybe sometimes I’ll have to be gone doing research, but I’ll always come home. If you’ll marry me. Will you, Jennifer?”

  She gripped the edge of the couch, feeling the texture of the fabric to make sure this was real. Not a fantasy. Not a dream.

  They’d be running a risk, both of them. Ian’s restless energy, his zest, his ambition would never let him become the steady sort of husband she’d imagined. But they were also part of the reason she’d fallen in love with him.

  She wasn’t a helpless girl anymore, Jennifer saw. She had the strength to match this man at every step. The strength to enjoy their times together, and create a private world with him and Rosalie that would sustain her when he was away.

  She gazed at his loving, honest face and said, “Yes.”

  For a moment neither of them moved. Then he pulled her close and kissed her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead

  “I love you so much,” Ian whispered. “I hardly remember what I was before we met.”

  “Impossibly handsome,” Jennifer answered promptly. “Also arrogant and pushy.”

  “Could you engrave that on my wedding ring? ‘I love you because you’re impossibly handsome, arrogant and pushy’?”

  “It would never fit,” she said.

  “Well, there goes that idea.” Ian grinned. Darned if he didn’t have the most delicious mouth. “Oh! I nearly forgot your present.”

  “You brought me a present?”

  “It’s in the car. Be right back.”

  He whipped out, leaving the door ajar. Jennifer peeked at Rosalie, who gazed back wide-eyed. “Not many babies get to watch their daddies propose to their mommies,” she told the infant.

  The little girl sighed. A born romantic, obviously.

  A trunk slammed and Ian reappeared, carrying a paper-covered rectangle. “It’s for the nursery. Let’s unveil it upstairs.”

  Bemused, Jennifer picked up the baby and followed. Striding ahead eagerly, Ian reached the room first and, when she entered, stood staring at the two photos she’d hung a few days ago.

  One showed Rosalie, a tiny pink bow in her tuft of hair, lolling against a bunny-shaped cushion. In the other, Jennifer sat on a velvet rug, cradling the infant and gazing up at the camera.

  “You both look angelic.” Ian swallowed. “What was in your mind when the photographer took that shot?”

  She was almost embarrassed to reveal it. “You.”

  “Really?”

  “He asked me to visualize someone I loved.” For an instant her heart had leaped ahead of her judgment.

  “I’ll remember that every time I look at it. Did you have wallet prints made? I’d like to carry one around.”

  “Of course.” She put the baby in the crib. “May I open my present now?”

  “By all means.”

  She pulled off the wrapping and removed a padded layer. The frame appeared the perfect size to hang next to the others, but what…

  Jennifer’s breath caught at the image of a cherubic infant rising from a half eggshell, as if newly hatched. “It’s adorable!” This was not only a photo, but a work of art.

  “The gallery said it symbolizes rebirth,” Ian murmured, hugging her from behind. “Perfect for our fresh start, eh?”

  Jennifer’s practical side intervened. “This must have cost a fortune!”

  “No more than the diamond earrings I wanted to buy, to go with the diamond ring we’re going to pick out,” he told her.

  “I’d much rather have this than earrings.” She rested her head against his chest, feeling utterly safe and sheltered.

  “Can we stay here forever?” Ian’s words rumbled through her. “Just bring in a preacher and family members and guests. We could cram a dozen or so people into the room, don’t you agree?”

  “I know a couple of bridesmaids’ dresses we could borrow.” Jennifer smiled at the silly, endearing image of staging a wedding in the nursery. “I already spent half a day tasting cakes. What do you say to chocolate raspberry?”

  “Mmm.”

  “We could honeymoon down the hall.” Mischievously she added, “How about holding a rehearsal right now?”

  “I vote for that,” he said. “Although I never heard of couples rehearsing their honeymoons.”

  “We’ll start a new tradition.” She swung around, straight into his arms. “Of course, we have to keep on rehearsing until we get it right.”

  Blue fire lit his eyes. “Like I said, I’ve always had the most amazing luck.”

  And so, Jennifer thought as they went down the hall to inaugurate their life together, did she.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-4849-0

  THE WOULD-BE MOMMY

  Copyright © 2010 by Jackie Hyman.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval
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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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