The Baby Arrangement

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “What? Why not?” They always met for a meal, anytime either of them asked. That was their thing.

  “Because we’re just going to keep wanting more.”

  “But we’re good, Mal. We know how to make it work. Forget the proposal. We’re good.”

  “I can’t forget it. I think about it all the time. And the kiss and so much else. It just hurts too much.”

  Wait. Just. A. Minute.

  “I don’t get it. We’re fine. We’re great. We have plans. And just because I suggest we get married, now all of sudden it’s over? All of it?”

  It couldn’t be. They were friends.

  She was having his daughters.

  He was going to be a father. From a distance, yes, but still there.

  “For now anyway,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Bray.” She sniffed. He could tell she was crying.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, when I get there. Let’s talk then,” he said and rang off.

  He needed time to think. To find the logic. He knew, once he found it, it would save them. Ten minutes after they’d hung up, Braden texted Mallory.

  You’re not selling The Bouncing Ball, are you? Or moving it?

  Her response was almost immediate.

  No.

  Okay, so they still had time. It wasn’t over. It was just on sabbatical.

  And you still want the space here?

  He was pushing.

  Yes, and fine, let’s do lunch tomorrow. I can see we need to talk about things.

  Damn straight they did. They were a team. Friends. Connected. They were having a pair of daughters before the year was out.

  There was no way they could call it quits.

  She just had to make it through one lunch. One more lunch as Braden’s friend and then she’d be through with that part of her life.

  It wasn’t going to be easy. She knew that going in. It wasn’t going to go well. She knew that, too. But they had history. They’d been friends a long time. She was a tenant of his and would continue to be one, and they needed to be good with that.

  She was having his daughters.

  That would be the hardest part.

  But they’d done this. They’d made this mess. It was up to them to figure a way out of it.

  When he texted, suggesting that he have lunch sent up to his office, her first reaction was to say absolutely not. The last time they’d been there together they’d kissed.

  But the more she thought about it, she figured his choice was a good one. They’d need privacy to get through this meeting, for her to say what she needed to say. Chances were she was going to cry and she preferred not to do that in public.

  After this, their dealings with each other were going to be limited to business.

  A critical part of her life was ending. She’d never be in love again—not like she was with Braden—but neither could she be part of a mentally and emotionally unhealthy relationship.

  He wouldn’t be able to stand it, either. Not in the long run.

  Just as he hadn’t before.

  She might have told Braden to get out when their marriage ended on their last bad fight. But he’d been the one to do it. He’d packed his bag, left and never spent another night under the roof they’d shared.

  He’d come back to help her get the place ready to sell. To pack up his things. To take down the nursery and donate everything in it except the few things she’d already packed away, mementos of the son they’d lost.

  But he’d never come home again.

  * * *

  She didn’t bother changing out of her work clothes—maternity jeans and an oversize T-shirt—or dressing up, either, for her lunch with Braden. At twelve exactly, the time they’d agreed upon, she smiled at William and headed down the hall to knock on Braden’s door.

  She’d barely made a sound before the door swung inward.

  Two Styrofoam containers sat on the table by the window, along with two glasses of tea. He motioned to one seat for her and took the other.

  “You look great,” he told her, glancing up and down her body as she approached. “I can’t believe how big you are already.”

  She might have taken offense if she didn’t know what he was talking about. “I know,” she said, grinning. She hadn’t gained anyplace but her breasts and belly, but she felt huge.

  And she was loving it. Pregnancy, for all its physical downsides, really agreed with her.

  He’d ordered her a grilled chicken salad with French bread on the side. She ate before she lost her appetite.

  “So, have you thought of names yet?” he asked, digging into his container of spaghetti.

  “Of course,” she told him, glad that he was letting them start out nice and easy. Like old times. He was setting a tone that would, hopefully, get them through what was to come. “I was doing that before I knew what I was having.”

  She’d done the same with Tucker. Had chosen half a dozen names and narrowed those down to two before she’d thought to ask Braden’s opinion.

  He’d liked both of her choices and had left the final say up to her.

  “Try them on me,” he said.

  She glanced up at him. He looked well. Fit. Too hot for her own good. She averted her eyes to her chicken salad.

  “I went through the standards, Kaylee and Kylie, that kind of thing. But I really like Eva and Mari.” She pronounced the latter with an “aw” sound.

  He nodded as he chewed.

  “Or there’s Kelly and Cassandra.”

  He met her gaze and nodded again.

  She went through a few more choices, adding middle names, as they ate. It was all very civil and kind.

  “What do you think?” she finally asked when she was out of names.

  “I like Madison and Morgan.”

  They hadn’t been among her choices. She just plain hadn’t thought of them.

  “Madison and Morgan. Yeah. Madison and Morgan. I like them, too,” she said, and they both smiled.

  * * *

  With that grin on her face, Mallory was gorgeous, choosing his names for their babies. He’d known to just back away, work, give things time to cool down, and everything would be fine.

  It always was.

  You just had to not get sucked up in the drama.

  Like he had when he’d proposed. He’d been all up inside himself, reacting instead of thinking. And he’d almost mucked it all up.

  “Oh!” Mallory lurched, fork suspended, eyes wide. And then stark fear crossed her face.

  “What?” He stared, tried to assess her expression.

  “I just...” She shook her head and put a hand to her stomach.

  “Is it the babies? What’s going on, Mal?”

  Her features had softened. “I think I just felt one of them move,” she said, looking like some kind of madonna.

  She jerked again, straightened, seemed to wait a second and said, “There. It just happened again.”

  “Is it the first time?”

  He hadn’t been present when she’d first felt Tucker move, so he didn’t know if this was how it happened or how she’d reacted then.

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s much stronger than I remember, from before,” she said, half smiling. It was like she was there and yet not. She was probably tuned in to the children inside of her.

  “Usually it starts more like gas bubbles, but this...” Her hand on her stomach, she stopped midsentence.

  “You’re sure it’s not something wrong?” The sensations seemed to be coming somewhat regularly, and not minutes apart.

  “I wasn’t sure at first,” she said, grinning now. “But it’s definitely baby movement. It’s not cramping, and it’s not down low. It doesn’t hurt at all. It just feels...odd. Different than with Tucker.”

  “Maybe because there’s tw
o of them in there sharing the same amount of space you had for one.” Now that he knew for certain there was no danger, he was out of his chair, down on one knee beside hers.

  He put his hand under hers on her stomach. Feeling Tucker move inside her had been the single most memorable part of the entire pregnancy for him.

  He’d been moved—not drama-filled emotion, but different, calmer. More.

  He felt nothing under his hand. “Is it still happening?” he asked, loving the feel of her roundness against his palm.

  “Yeah.” Her voice sounded different.

  “I can’t feel it.”

  “It’s stronger than gas bubbles, but it’s not that strong.”

  And there he was, his hand on her stomach, clearly hard. In his dress pants the reaction was obvious. She was staring at it, too. He looked at her when she raised her face, ready to apologize, and her eyes pooled with tears.

  He held her gaze, reading far more than he could decipher in her look. She looked away first, out the window beside them. Down twelve floors or out to the horizon, he didn’t know.

  He cleared the table and threw away the trash.

  She was right behind him with the glasses, taking them over to the bar where his cleaning service would take care of them.

  She was the only woman he wanted in his life. She was having his children. He wanted to feel them kick inside her.

  It was right that he should. Right that she shouldn’t have to handle two babies alone.

  He had logical reasons for their union. Their physical attraction was clearly mutual—and as hot it had ever been. But it wasn’t just the sex. He wanted to hold her afterward, too. And before. To have the right to just walk into her home any time day or night. And to know it was his home, too...

  “I came up here to tell you that I can’t be friends with you anymore, Bray.”

  He turned, grinning. Thank God. She knew it, too. Had seen that them being married, not friends, was the only way for them to be happy. Somehow, this time they’d make it work.

  She was standing at the sink, not doing anything, just standing there, her back to him. He moved toward her, wishing he had a ring to offer her. She’d kept hers from before. Would she want the same one?

  She continued to speak. “If you’re willing and in agreement, I’d like to continue our business association with The Bouncing Ball and Braden Property Management. And I will stand by my agreement to put your name on Morgan and Madison’s birth certificates.”

  Something odd in her voice stopped him from touching her. He stood back, listening, thinking that this was her attempt to meet him on his ground, with logic, not drama.

  It wasn’t necessary. He could deflect the drama. He just couldn’t sit in it with her. And that was good for both of them. She’d obviously realized that his control was an asset, that no matter how out of control things might feel, she’d always have him to maintain order in the chaos. To think while others reacted. To keep them from careening down a hill without breaks and crashing into little pieces.

  He stood there while she continued.

  “I will want the legal custodial agreement, with you signing over to me any rights to the girls, done before they’re born. It’s the only way I can put your name on the birth certificates. And that’s all. Whether or not I tell them about you will be a decision made sometime in the future, as occasions warrant. I can tell you only that I would let you know before I said anything to either one of them. This is it, Bray. This is all I can do.”

  What? That last bit. What?

  He stood frozen. Hearing her. Unable to process the ramifications.

  She was over-reacting. That was it. Because of the sex. She’d said it would get the best of them, but couldn’t she see that was a good thing? It was part of what kept bringing them back to each other.

  “Take some time, think about it,” he said. Time would bring rationality. Fear and panic would fade.

  She turned, looked him right in the eye. “I don’t need any more time. I’m not running scared here, Braden. This is something I know. We can’t stay away from each other anymore when we’re together. These babies have looped a new cord around us and it’s drawing us closer every time we’re together.”

  Exactly! So why didn’t she see the obvious solution?

  “When we’re together, I need you to keep your distance,” she told him. “Because I can’t stay away from you. When we’re in the same room, it’s like you’re a magnet, and I feel myself being pulled ever closer to you.”

  He took a step toward her, then another, his eyes intent on hers, silently telling her she was fighting the inevitable.

  Holding up her hand, Mallory moved toward the door. “No, Braden.” Her tone was unequivocal and he stopped instantly. “No more. Because when it gets down to everyday living and I’m me and you’re you, it’s not going to work.”

  She cut off his rebuttal. “Think about it. What if my test had come back positive a second time and I was dealing with possibly losing one or both of the babies I’m carrying? Or what if a few minutes ago what I felt hadn’t been one of them moving? I know the risks I’ve taken on. I know I might face horrible heartache if anything happens to these babies. I know that I’m going to spend many nights watching them breathe, afraid that if I stop, so will they. But I’m also prepared to deal with that. And to deal, I may have to curl up in a corner and cry or sit in a rocker and hug a penguin. I can’t do that when you’re around.”

  She lay a hand on the doorknob as she continued. “And you...you need a home without drama, Bray. You deserve that. I love you and I know that’s what you need, and knowing that I can’t give it to you just about kills me, but not as badly as it would if we remarried and then divorced again.” She shook her head, as if clearing it of the image. “I can’t lose you a second time. Not like that.”

  It was logical. Every word of it. There was no drama. Just how he liked it.

  With a nod, Braden walked to his desk, sat down at his computer and stared at a screen he couldn’t really see. He heard the door open.

  And close.

  He didn’t look up.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A week passed with no word from Braden. And then two. Mallory worked. She attended her baby shower, wept over the bounty of gifts and love her coworkers and friends showered on her. She had lunch with Tamara twice.

  Her friend was pregnant. Tamara had never struggled to conceive. But with four pregnancies, she’d never been able to carry a live baby to term. She was having a hard time keeping herself above water emotionally as she faced going into her second month, and with Mallory grieving over the loss of Braden, the two of them made a sorry pair.

  And yet they made it through each day. Not just functioning, but living. Hoping. Loving. Flint was a rock for Tamara, but it was Diamond Rose who was going to save her friend. The little girl who’d been conceived and born in prison was enough to show anyone that life didn’t always work out as expected but it did work out.

  Diamond Rose was still in her first year of life and already she’d healed two hearts and created miracles in two lives.

  Mallory thought about Flint and Tamara and little Diamond Rose a lot. She talked to Morgan and Madison about them. They were a testament that she and the twins would know happiness. That things didn’t have to be like a storybook to be right. That even when families weren’t mom, dad and kids, they were still family.

  Still candidates to be recipients for miracles.

  It was that thinking that got her through the weeks without Braden.

  At work, she watched the parking lot every day for his SUV. Once or twice a week she saw it there. Those days were better than others.

  And harder, too.

  When her phone rang on one of those days—Thursday of the third week since she’d severed their relationship—and she saw his number, she debated
whether she should answer. The ringing stopped before she’d come up with an answer and then she debated whether to call him back.

  Her phone signaled a voice mail before either side of her won.

  “Mallory, I have the legal papers you requested. May I drop them off to you? Please advise.”

  She texted him rather than call him back.

  I’ll come get them.

  She didn’t want him in her space.

  * * *

  He was behaving like a sot. Someone he was ashamed to know. He could have left the papers with William. Could have had his attorney mail them to her or to her attorney.

  Perversity drove him to use the papers as an excuse to see her.

  She’d get exactly what she wanted. He owed her that. But he wanted things, too. To see her. To reassure himself that she was getting along just fine without him.

  And to clear up one other point.

  If he was going to be free, he wanted it known that he was completely free.

  She showed up at his office ten minutes after he called her. He’d purposely timed his call for her usual lunch break so he wasn’t all that surprised.

  In jeans and an oversize Bouncing Ball polo shirt, with a purple cardigan to match, she walked her matching purple tennis shoes into his office as though she had no idea she’d just poleaxed him with a shaft of pain so sharp he had to take a second to catch his breath.

  Her hair was down, curled around her shoulders and lightly made-up face. And that belly. Already it was as big as he remembered her ever getting with his son. Which made him think about the back pain she’d suffered that last month with Tucker. She’d leaned her stomach against his back at night, using him to help her hold the weight of their baby. It had been the only way she could get comfortable enough to sleep.

  She still had more than two months to go. How in the hell was she ever going to rest?

  Not his problem, he reminded himself.

  “You look good.” He kept his tone neutral. No reason they couldn’t be civil. Their differences were not the fault of either one of them.