Do You Take This Baby?

by Wendy Warren

  “Uhm, actually, I’ve been looking into, uh...” How the heck was she going to explain this away? Was she ready to tell him she wanted to have a baby on her own? She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone in her family.

  “Have you learned anything that might help Cody stop crying?”

  “What?”

  “Did you find some information that might help us figure out what’s wrong with him?” Straightening away from the screen, he turned to her.

  His question baffled her. How was she going to discover cures for crack babies on a website for artificial insemination? “Ah...not so much,” she said hesitantly.

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said, walking to the pile of baby things he’d brought and quickly locating the wrap. “He’s happy when he’s with you. You have the right touch. You don’t need advice.”

  Ethan’s expression, so filled with gratitude and admiration, sent shivers of lust racing up her spine. He was giving her his sexy I’m-smiling-just-for-you look.

  “Is it hot in here?” she croaked. “It’s been too hot in here all morning.”

  “Let’s go, then. Looks like the rain stopped.”

  He handed her a baby wrap, electrifying her fingertips as they brushed his. Trying to ignore the feeling, she thanked her lucky stars that he was too distracted to realize what she’d been looking at on her computer screen. Transferring the baby and bottle to his arms so she could put on the wrap, she said, “You look like you’re scared of him. Maybe he can sense that. Why don’t you pretend he’s a big, scary linebacker, or whoever usually tackles you. You’re not scared of them, right?”

  “They’re not as loud as Cody.”

  She shook her head. “Keep the bottle in his mouth. I think he’ll be reasonably happy until I can get him in the wrap.”

  Following her instruction, Ethan waited patiently while she arranged the material. The baby did, indeed, quietly suck on the bottle. Nonetheless, Ethan looked relieved when she took Cody from his arms and tucked him into the wrap.

  Grabbing a light coat from the hall tree next to the front door, she said, “We’re ready. The restaurant isn’t far, only a few blocks,” she said as they exited the apartment and she locked up.

  “You okay on these stairs with the baby?” Solicitously, he reached for her elbow.

  I’m fine with the baby, but you’re making me dizzy. Ethan looked really, really good carrying a diaper bag.

  “Hunky-dory.” She smiled. “Although it might help if we go down single file.” Without touching.

  “Sure. Let me go first, so I can help if you lose your footing.” He slung the diaper bag over his shoulder and preceded her down the steep flight of stairs, glancing back as if she were as delicate as the wings of a butterfly.

  Already she was gaining insight into how different it would be when she was doing this on her own. Struck by a pang of longing for the life she’d once planned, Gemma almost stumbled. “I’m fine!” she assured him when Ethan reached for her. She stood stock-still until he assured himself that she was okay and began to move forward again.

  I am fine, she repeated to herself. I will be fine.

  Hanging out with Cody was great experience for the day when she would hold a baby of her own against her heart. Hanging out with Cody’s uncle...

  That was a test of a different kind.

  * * *

  The streets steamed as the sun came out from behind the clouds to dry the pavement. Branches above the tree-lined sidewalks glistened, and Portlanders, undaunted by a spring shower, pushed strollers and walked their dogs. Overhead, birds chatted as Gemma and Ethan strolled through her charming vintage neighborhood. Arts and crafts–style homes from the 1930s had been repurposed into thriving cafés and boutiques and, on Thursday mornings, she bought her fresh produce at the corner farmers’ market. From a block away, she could see her favorite breakfast spot, a popular bistro called Flapjacks. A line wound halfway around the block.

  Gemma looked anxiously up at Ethan. “I know it’s packed to the rafters, but it’s worth it. Best breakfast in the southeast.”

  “I’m happy to wait,” he said, and he did look a little more relaxed as they stepped into line behind an elderly couple who smiled at Cody.

  “I bet you don’t have to wait in line much,” she teased, squinting up at him. “Do maître d’s say ‘Right this way’ the second they see you?”

  “No, but I almost always get a few extra fries at the drive-through.”

  He grinned, and she felt herself grow warm. Humble as he was, Gemma saw the people around them beginning to notice Ethan. A middle-aged man in a baseball cap nudged the woman next to him and chin-nodded toward Ethan. A teenage boy pulled out his phone and snapped a photo.

  “That kid just took your picture,” she whispered. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”

  Without glancing the young man’s way, Ethan said, “Nah. He was taking your picture. You want me to go break his phone for you?”

  She marveled at him. “You’re that used to all this attention. It doesn’t faze you?”

  He shrugged. “It comes with the territory, Gemma. It’s not about me, it’s about what I do.”

  “What if someone photographs you in the restaurant with egg yolk on your chin?”

  A smile pushed his cheeks. He leaned forward, so close it might have appeared to onlookers that he was going to kiss her. “I trust you to wipe it off before anyone else sees it.”

  He is soooo gorgeous. His hair sparkled with wheat and gold threads in the sun. The highlights weren’t artificial, either. She remembered the same color mesmerizing her in high school. Standing this close, she could see tiny flecks of brown in his blue eyes and the darker rims around the irises. His eyes were a little bloodshot, and it gave her a thrill to realize that only she knew the reason for it.

  “I’ve got something to ask you,” he said, his expression turning more serious.

  Her heart thumped against her ribs. “Okay,” she responded breathlessly. When Ethan looked at her, his attention was so focused she felt as if she were the only woman in the world. He could charm the socks off anyone, she knew that, but sometimes, lately, it seemed as if he might be feeling the attraction, too. “What is it?”

  “This is going to sound like it’s coming out of left field,” he qualified, “and I admit it’s not something I’ve given a lot of thought to before this morning. But I know it’s right.”

  Oh. My. Gosh. He knows it’s right? Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh. He was feeling the attraction. Maybe. Was he going to tell her he wanted to take their relationship to the next level? “Go on.”

  “You’re Ethan Ladd, aren’t you?” The older couple in line directly ahead of them turned, faces wreathed in smiles.

  Gemma looked at the kindly visage of the elderly man who peered through his glasses at Ethan. Uncharacteristically, she wanted to sock him.

  She felt Ethan’s frustration, too, as he took a breath and nodded. “Yes.”

  The woman leaned forward. “Your baby is an angel. Our grandson was born a few months ago. Aren’t they darling at this stage?”

  Ethan glanced at Gemma, irony filling his expression as he took her hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Adorable,” he agreed, and they grinned at each other. Once again, even in the middle of a crowd, she felt as if she were all alone in the world with Ethan.

  The man asked him when training camp started for the Eagles, and Gemma’s attention drifted to a young couple farther up in line. Like her, the woman wore a baby in a front wrap. The man stood face-to-face with her, the baby between them, and Gemma watched with a pang of longing as they kissed over the infant’s pink-capped head. She glanced down at her own hand, safely enveloped in Ethan’s. This is what I want.

  As the line moved forward, the older couple turned their attention to what they wanted for bre
akfast, and Gemma seized the opportunity. “What were you going to ask me?”

  For the first time, he seemed to realize he was still holding her hand. Giving it another squeeze, he began to speak, but was interrupted immediately by a middle-aged fan with a piece of paper, a pen and timing that made Gemma want to scream.

  “Could I get your autograph for my husband and a selfie with you?” the woman asked, and Ethan, ever gracious, let go of Gemma. “Hang on for just a second,” he whispered to her.

  Disappointment filled her every cell as he accepted the paper and posed for a photo, the first of several as they made their way to the front of the line.

  The next time they had the privacy to resume their conversation, they were seated with menus at a blissfully secluded table toward the rear of the restaurant.

  Gemma’s anticipation began to rise as Ethan laid his menu on the table and leaned forward to speak.

  “So. This European trip. How much money will it take to get you there, you think?”

  Prepared for a different conversation, Gemma groped for the thread. “My trip?”

  “Yeah, those brochures you have? Trips like that are expensive, aren’t they?”

  She ducked her head and fussed with Cody’s wrap. “When we were outside, you said you wanted to ask me something. Was that it?”

  “I’m getting there.”

  A waiter arrived. “Hi. What can I get you to drink?”

  Vodka tonic, Gemma thought, irritated. “Coffee, thanks.” She smiled. Ethan asked for the same.

  As soon as the waiter left, Ethan continued, “About your trip. You were telling me that you needed to get a job this summer to afford it. What are you looking at, cost-wise?”

  Utterly confused, Gemma shrugged. “A lot. The trip would help me get my doctorate. The doctorate would help me afford the trip. It’s a catch-22. At this point, it’s probably a pipe dream.”

  “But you really want to go?”

  I want my doctorate. I really want to have a baby. I really, really want...someone like you. It was true. Crazy, maybe ridiculous and potentially sophomoric, but sitting here imagining them as a husband, wife and baby filled her with a happiness she didn’t get anyplace else. Probably her hormones acting up. “Yes,” she answered carefully, “I’d like to go...sooner or later.”

  “So you need to make a decent wage this summer. Right?” Ethan picked up his spoon and drummed it on his palm.

  “Sure. Ethan, where are you headed with this?”

  As he opened his mouth to respond, the waiter arrived with two glasses of ice water.

  “Ready to order?” the young man asked, his pen already poised above his pad.

  “A lemon-blueberry scone, please,” she said, damning her diet, but needing the carbo comfort. Ethan shifted in his chair, opened the menu, looked it over quickly and pointed randomly. “I’ll have that.” Snapping the menu shut, he handed it to the waiter.

  “How would you like your eggs?”

  “Don’t care.”

  “Oh?”

  “Surprise me.”

  The waiter seemed at a loss.

  “Scrambled,” Ethan said, tone final, trying to get back to their conversation.

  “Whole grain, sourdough or rye toast, or blueberry, pumpkin or maple-bacon pancakes?”

  “Really don’t care.”

  “The maple-bacon pancakes are—”

  “Fine.”

  He wrote on the pad. “Bacon or sausage?”

  “Bacon!”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be back in a second with your coffee.”

  As the young man finally moved off, Ethan drove his hand through his hair. Gemma reached across the table and patted his arm in an effort to soothe him. “What were you going ask—”

  “I want you to move in with me!”

  Slack-jawed, Gemma stared at him. Wow. Should have ordered that vodka tonic, after all.

  Chapter Seven

  That could have gone better.

  Ethan hadn’t planned to blurt that out, but he felt desperation crawling through his veins. “I can get another nanny,” he said. “The agency said they’d find someone eventually. But...” Just spit it out. “Cody needs you.”

  The words hovered in the air between them, and he knew they weren’t right. They were true enough, but they weren’t the whole truth. Ethan shifted on the hard chair. He was uncomfortable in the room, uncomfortable in his skin. There was too much noise and too many people in the restaurant. He should have talked to her at her place.

  “You want me to be Cody’s nanny,” Gemma reiterated, looking shell-shocked and...not happy.

  “I know that’s not what you do with your life,” he responded. “I know it’s not something you’d seek out. There’s no reason for you to say yes. I get that. But, Gemma, DHS is breathing down my neck. The social worker doesn’t think I can handle Cody, I can tell.” He rolled his eyes. “Why the hell would she think I can handle him? I don’t know what I’m doing, and I—” On the verge of telling her why DHS never should have placed Cody with him in the first place, he stopped. He trusted her, but he just wasn’t sure he wanted her to know exactly how unqualified he was to take care of a baby. Of anyone.

  “What if they take him away from me?” That fear was so strong, he couldn’t contain it anymore. “They could put him with strangers. Before I can even find Samantha.”

  Beneath the surface of the table, he clasped his hands, cracking his knuckles to release the tension he could barely tolerate. The fact was, he shouldn’t have come here. Shouldn’t be laying his worries on her. She was too good, too willing to help people. Hadn’t he always thought her family took advantage of her? And now here he was, doing the same. Stand up. Take Cody. Find a new nanny agency—

  “You really believe they would take him?”

  Looking up at the softly spoken question, Ethan scrutinized Gemma’s face. He couldn’t tell whether she was considering his request, but selfish or not, he couldn’t live all alone in the anxiety anymore. “They’re worried that I can’t keep a nanny. And they’re concerned about the future, because no one’s heard from Samantha. They’re talking about ‘permanency planning’ if they can’t find her, and I haven’t been able to devote enough time to looking for her. And I sure can’t convince them Cody belongs with me for now when he’s screaming bloody murder every time the caseworker shows up.”

  After that, they were silent. Cody remained asleep, and Gemma toyed with the edge of her paper napkin, seemingly deep in thought. She wore a bright red kerchief tied in a big bow around her hair. The color matched the wide belt that cinched her small waist and emphasized her hips and breasts. Nervous and exhausted as he was, he’d noticed that the moment he’d laid eyes on her today. Gemma had a twenty-four-karat-gold brain and a body that was va-va-va-voom, an old-fashioned term that fit her 1950s pinup figure...which had been distracting him lately. He’d dated models, long and lean, and had always figured that was his type, but now every time he was around Gemma—

  Ethan gave his head a clearing shake. His fatigued brain was going to places it didn’t belong. Unclasping his hands, he rubbed his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry. I never should have—”

  “Let me think about it—”

  They spoke at the same time.

  “You’ll think about it?”

  “Shouldn’t have what?”

  The waiter brought their coffees as he and Gemma stared at each other across the table. Guilt and jubilation fought in his mind. Any friend would tell her to run like hell, not to get mixed up in another family drama that didn’t belong to her.

  “Do you take milk or cream?” the waiter asked.

  “Bloody Mary,” Ethan answered, his eyes still on Gemma.

  She nodded. “Same.” Then she broke eye contact with Ethan
and turned toward the bemused server. “And please hurry.”

  * * *

  The savory aroma of onions and garlic welcomed Gemma as she let herself into her sister Lucy’s kitchen. Stepping over toys belonging to both children and dogs, she found her sister in the process of getting dinner started for her family. Minna, looking as harried as Lucy, was busily cleaning out Lucy’s refrigerator and freezer. Face sticky, smile wide, Owen leaned way over in his high chair, holding his arms out in greeting.

  “Hi,” she announced herself. “Something smells good.” She’d been hoping to discuss her situation with Ethan with Lucy alone, but knew Minna would have to be told sooner or later, anyway.

  “Well, it’s not from this freezer,” Minna announced, removing an ice-covered something or other and plunking it onto a mountain of stuff already on the counter. “What are you doing here?”

  “Yeah, I thought you went back to Portland,” Lucy said as she stirred what looked and smelled like her homemade Bolognese. “Can you stay for dinner?”

  “Well, that’s kind of why I’m here. I have news. Big fat news.”

  Minna set down a stack of frozen dinners and looked up excitedly. “News? Something juicy?”

  “I think so.” Gemma meandered toward the center island. “You know I want to go to Europe, and I need a summer job, so I was going to teach over the break, right?”

  Minna looked disappointed. “Yes, dear, we know.”

  “Right,” Lucy said as she dunked a piece of soft Italian bread in the sauce and blew on it for Owen.

  Minna brandished a jar she pulled from the refrigerator. “The expiration date on this is from before you were born,” she said to Lucy.

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Mom, it is not.”

  Nudging her glasses higher on her nose, Minna peered at the label. “Yes, it is. Moses ate this in the desert.”

  “Mom!”

  As the two of them bickered, Gemma pulled Owen out of his high chair and into her arms. Taking the sauce-drenched bread from her sister, she said, “So as it turns out, I’m not going to work in Portland. I got a job locally.”