by Elks, Carrie
“Yep. There really isn’t anywhere else.”
“Have you thought about renting some workspace?” he asked her, his brows knitting together. “There has to be somewhere better than this.”
“I have, but there’s the small matter of cash flow.” Harper shrugged. “Once I get a steady income that’s first on my list. I can’t keep working out of Caitie and Breck’s home. They deserve their space.”
“I have a room you could use.” James blinked, as though surprised at his words. But then his expression softened, and he smiled at her. “There’s a whole basement in my house that is empty. It’s water tight, well lit, and I’ve never needed it. You could move all your work down there. You could make a hundred dresses and you’d still have space to move.”
“That’s a very sweet thought.” It really was getting crazy in her room. And if she made a success of things then she’d definitely need more hanging space. She couldn’t fit much more in, that was for sure.
But was it sensible? After the appointment today she was already finding it difficult to keep a distance from him. Lines were getting blurred everywhere and she owed it to this baby to be sensible. Not to be the type of woman who jumped at the first sign of a knight in shining armor.
She wasn’t going to be that mom.
“I didn’t say it to be sweet,” he told her. “You should do it.”
“I don’t know…” her voice wavered then trailed off.
“It doesn’t have to be forever. But of course you’re welcome to use it as long as you’d like. It will probably be better for your sleep if this room’s free of all your work, and you know how important rest is for the baby and you.”
“I can’t afford to pay any rent,” she admitted, hating how that made her feel. “I’d just be mooching off you.” Again. Ugh, she hated this.
James raised an eyebrow. “You’re having my baby, I wouldn’t ask you to pay rent. And as the father, it’s in my interest to make your life as easy as possible, so don’t think I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”
She smiled, because she knew he was doing exactly that. “I told you before I’m not good at accepting help.”
He reached out and cupped her cheek. The warmth of his palm seared her, making her breath catch in her throat. Apart from the gentle pressure of his hand against her back, it was the first time he’d touched her since that night three months ago.
And it felt as good as she remembered.
“I’m not the kind of guy who sees taking care of the mother of his baby as ‘help’,” James said, his voice low. “It’s my job. A father’s duty to his kid is as equal to the mother’s, and I take that seriously. I hate the kind of guy who says he’s babysitting his kids. He’s not babysitting, he’s their damn father. He’s doing what he’s supposed to. And I know you’re not used to asking for help, but that’s not what I’m offering. What I’m offering is to help care for my child and its mother.”
Her heart clenched. Just a little. “Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure. Whether you like it or not, we’re going to be connected forever. This little baby growing inside you will see to that.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “In that case, I’d like to take you up on your offer.” She held her breath for a moment, waiting for his response.
His mouth split into a grin. “Excellent. I’ll arrange for a van to pick up all your work stuff.”
* * *
An hour later, they were drinking coffee in the kitchen and filling out the family medical history form Ellie had given them. Harper was tapping the pen against her lips, frowning at the questions.
“Any history of heart disease in your family?” she asked.
“Not that I know of. How about yours?” He lifted the cup to his mouth, staring at her over the rim.
“None. My dad died in a car accident when I was a baby, and my grandfather died of colon cancer. My mom and my grandma are still alive.”
He noticed her voice dipping with disdain when she mentioned her family. “Are they excited about the baby?” he asked.
She looked up, shaking her head. “I haven’t told them.”
“You haven’t? Why not?”
She shrugged. “I don’t speak to my mom very often. Maybe once a year or so. And I’ve been on bad terms with my grandma since I left home for college. She wasn’t very happy with me about that.”
James frowned. “Really? My parents were so excited when I got into college, and then into med school. I had to stop them from organizing a party every time I got an ‘A’ on an assignment.”
Harper laughed. “Grandma wanted me to stay in Connecticut where she could keep an eye on me. She blamed college for my mom’s flighty ways. Said her parents should never have let her leave home at that age.”
“You said your grandma is your dad’s mom, right?” James clarified.
“Yeah. She’s the one who brought me up after dad died and mom left.” Harper swallowed. “I guess I should tell her about the baby. She deserves to know.”
“Not if telling her will hurt you.”
“It’ll confirm what she already thought about me. That I’m turning out to be just like my mom. Pregnant before marriage. Except I’ve one upped her and managed to get pregnant without even being in a relationship.” She lifted a shaky hand to her brow.
He frowned. “Seriously? What kind of people think like that?” He tried to imagine his mom reacting like that to the news, but it was impossible. She never judged him or told him he was worthless. Her love was always unconditional. “Is your mom still in Connecticut?”
“No. She hasn’t lived there since I was a baby. She moved to Boston with husband number two, and then when that went wrong she married number three in London.” She shook her head.
James wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“I can see your wide eyes.” Harper grinned at him. “Why not widen them a bit more, because she’s on marriage number eight. She’s New England’s Liz Taylor.”
This time he laughed. “She sounds like a character.”
“She likes being looked after, and she loves weddings. I think she probably went a bit crazy after my dad died and left her with a newborn baby and no money at all. His trust fund went back to my grandparents.”
“He didn’t leave any money to you?”
Harper shook her head. “No. My grandma controls everything. And when I left I told her I didn’t want any of it.” She shrugged. “She thought I’d be back within a year. Maybe two. But here I am, nearly ten years later, and I haven’t asked for a dime.” She rolled her shoulders back, her eyes glinting.
So that’s why she hated accepting help. From the moment she was born she was taught support always came with strings.
“How about you?” Harper asked, as though she was sick of talking about her life. “Have you told your parents?”
“Not yet, but I plan to. Now we know everything’s looking good I guess I should let them know.”
“Will they be upset with you?”
He laughed. “No. They’ll be ecstatic. Mom loves kids. She absolutely adored Jacob. She’ll be so excited, she’ll probably go crazy.” He looked down at his coffee cup. “They’ll want to meet you.”
“They will?”
“For sure.” He nodded. “How do you feel about that?”
“Um, I don’t know,” she said. “I guess it would be okay. As long as you promise they won’t call me a tramp, or even worse, ‘just like your mother’.” She rolled her eyes.
He laughed. “Since they don’t know your mom, I’m pretty sure you’re safe. And they won’t think you’re a tramp any more than they’ll think I am. They’re big supporters of women’s rights.”
She smiled at him. “I like the sound of them.”
Yeah, well he was pretty sure they’d like her, too. That thought was strangely comforting. Weird how quickly he was getting used to this situation, to being a co-parent with a woman he barely knew.
You�
�d like to know her, though.
He took a sip of coffee, ignoring the voice in his head. As far as he was concerned it was talking crap anyway. The lines between the two of them were already so blurred they were almost non-existent. He didn’t need his damn libido to kick in, too.
Co-parents. That’s all they were and he was perfectly happy with that. Less emotional. Less messy. Less chance for him to get hurt again.
12
Harper looked around the basement, a smile playing at her lips. It had taken a few days to move all her dresses and equipment but everything was finally in the right place. James hadn’t lied about his basement being perfect. It took up practically the whole footprint of the house, and the generous floor space had allowed her to set up separate zones. Her designs were in one part of the room, on a large table that was already down here, and her sewing table was in the other corner, along with a wall of shelves where she’d been able to put her rolls of fabrics and hundreds of threads.
Her three racks were placed in such a way they almost looked like a shop, next to an expansive mirror left over from the previous owner, who’d used this room as a yoga studio. Then there was the adjoining bathroom, which meant she wouldn’t need to run up the stairs every time she needed to pee. Thanks to her pregnancy bladder, that felt like a major win.
James had been here for the first two days of moving in. In fact, he’d done half the work while she’d supervised the photoshoot she’d arranged with Ember’s friend. The pictures had come out wonderfully – both mother and daughter had looked perfect in the clothes Harper had created – and she’d already had a slew of orders and interest from boutiques in the local area.
She had a feeling she was going to need every inch of this space.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her lunchtime had come and gone. She rubbed her stomach – her bump perfectly rounded, as though somebody had stuffed a ball inside it.
Today she was wearing a pair of bleached rolled-up maternity jeans, along with a pretty laced tunic she’d made with some fabric remnants. Her hair was twisted and clipped up to keep it out of her face as she leaned over the sewing machine.
As she walked, barefoot, up to James’s high-spec, gleaming kitchen, her stomach growled again, louder this time. She quickly grabbed the lunch bag she’d brought with her and pulled out an apple, biting down into it as she felt the juices spray her lips.
Mmm. That was good. With the apple in one hand, she grabbed the container of pasta and sauce with the other and put it into James’s microwave, heating it on high for two minutes. As the turntable went around, she pulled out his drawers, searching for some cutlery.
The first one was full of knives. The second had chopping boards and baking trays. She chewed another chunk of her apple as she pulled the third one out, revealing only old papers and takeout menus.
What wouldn’t she give for a hot chicken chow mein right now.
There was a key ring in the drawer. One of those photo ones you could get made at a drugstore. Curious, Harper pulled it out and lifted it into the light. A pretty brunette was grinning back at her, her long dark hair curled over one shoulder. She had a baby balanced on her hip – he looked to be about six months old. Harper recognized where the photo was taken – on the beach near the Déjà Brew coffee shop.
It had to be Sara and Jacob. Seeing them made tears sting at her eyes.
They were so happy, so carefree, and yet only a few months after this photograph was taken they were both in that terrible accident. Her heart ached as she traced her finger over the plastic holding the image.
James must have taken the photo. She could almost picture it. From the way Sara and Jacob were laughing, she imagined he was making faces at them, his eyes soft with love as he looked at his family.
How did somebody survive a loss like that?
And now here she was, bringing him a pile of trouble he hadn’t asked for, and he wasn’t complaining one bit. He’d done everything he could to make her life easier. From finding an obstetrician to letting her use his basement for no cost, James was making her feel things she hadn’t felt for a long time.
Maybe ever.
The microwave pinged at the exact moment somebody rapped on the back door. Harper jumped, and her heart started to race in her chest.
Another rap. Blowing out a mouthful of air she walked around the corner to the glass doors. Standing on the deck was a woman of around sixty, her grey hair neatly styled into a bob that ended at her jaw.
“Hello?” Harper said as she made her way toward the door.
“Um, hi. Is James in?” the woman asked.
“No, he’s at work. Can I help you?”
Harper stopped at the door. There was only a sheet of glass separating her from the woman. Figuring she looked nothing like a serial killer, Harper reached to unlatch the door, then pulled it open.
“Are you the new cleaner?” the woman asked. “I didn’t know Maggie had left.”
“No.” Harper shook her head. “I’m not a cleaner. I’m a… friend. I’ve been borrowing James’s basement.”
The woman laughed. “How rude of me. I’m sorry.” She reached out a hand. “I’m Louise Tanner, James’s mom.”
Oh boy. This wasn’t how she imagined meeting his parents. In her mind they’d be primed, knowing exactly who she was and that she was pregnant with his baby. Not standing in the middle of the kitchen as this elegant older woman stared at her with interest.
The microwave pinged again to remind her it had finished. Harper flashed Louise a smile. “I was just warming my lunch,” she told her. “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
“A glass of water would be lovely,” Louise said, following Harper into the kitchen. “And you go ahead and eat. Don’t let me interrupt you…” she trailed off. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Harper.” She reached out a hand and Louise shook it.
“I didn’t realize James was working today,” Louise told Harper as she took her pasta out of the microwave. “I only popped by because he mentioned the hem on one of his curtains had come loose. He may be an amazing surgeon, but give him a needle and a thread and he’s all thumbs and no fingers.” She laughed. The way her eyes crinkled and her head tipped back reminded Harper of James.
Harper’s stomach gurgled again, the sound echoing through the room.
“Oh my, you’d better eat something,” Louise said. Then her eyes caught the swell of Harper’s stomach and her brows knitted together. “Oh.”
Without thinking, Harper cradled her bump with her hand, leaving James’s mom with no room for doubt.
“You’re pregnant,” Louise said.
“Um, yeah.”
“How far along?”
“Fifteen weeks tomorrow.” Harper attempted a smile. “It feels like forever already.”
“I bet. Now eat,” Louise said, pointing at the pasta. “I can still remember what second trimester hunger is like. I used to drive my poor husband crazy with all my demands, but the way I saw it he’d contributed to the problem and he could help with the solution.”
Harper laughed in spite of herself.
“How about your partner?” Louise asked. “Does he have to run out at midnight to grab you jars of pickles?”
“I don’t have a partner,” Harper told her. “I guess if I want pickles I’ll go get them myself.”
“Oh.” Louise shifted in her seat. Harper was acutely aware how uncomfortable this situation was. In a few days, James would tell his mom about the baby, and presumably about Harper. Would she be angry Harper hadn’t told her?
But it wasn’t her place to say anything, was it? This was James’s mom and it was his news to share. She’d already made enough mistakes, she didn’t need any more.
“I should probably eat,” Harper said. “I’ve got a ton of work to get done this afternoon.”
“What is it you do?” Louise asked. She’d regained her calm demeanor.
“I’m a dress designer.
That’s what I’m doing down in James’s basement.”
“Well that’s a relief. I was starting to worry you were some kind of serial killer. Or maybe you were running a BDSM club down there.”
Harper coughed out a laugh, and a piece of pasta flew from her mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry. That’s so disgusting.” She covered her lips with her hand.
“It’s my fault for making you laugh.” Louise’s eyes twinkled. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t lying, though. I’m really curious about what you’re doing down there.”
“I’ll tell you what, once I’ve finished my pasta I’ll show you.”
“If you promise not to tie me up to the wall, I might take you up on that offer.” Louise grinned.
God, James’s mom was nice. And so different from Harper’s mom and grandma. Down to earth, funny, and kind.
More than a little bit like her son.
* * *
“So your mom popped in earlier,” Harper told James when he’d arrived home that evening. She’d just finished her day’s work and was ready to leave. Caitie had messaged to see if she wanted to meet at the diner. If it involved food and not having to make it, the answer was always yes.
“Yeah, I know. She called me.” He kicked off his shoes.
“She did? What did she say?” Harper looked down at her bump. “She could tell I was pregnant but I didn’t tell her about you being the father of the baby.” Her face paled. “I hope I didn’t cause you any problems.”
“It’s fine.” He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, his t-shirt rising up to reveal a thin sliver of his abdomen.
She wasn’t going to look. No way, siree. But those damn hormones practically hijacked her gaze and forced her to glance at his smooth, tan skin, and the ridges of muscle there.
Was it getting hot in here?
“She was okay about it all?” Harper asked, leaning against the wall. A lock of hair fell across her eyes and she wiped it away, tucking it behind her ear. “She wasn’t worried about some strange pregnant lady being in your house while you were gone? I was scared she was going to call the cops on me.” She licked her dry lips. “Or that I’d blurt out the truth.”