Standing in the guest bedroom, Laurel stared at her suitcase. She’d put off unpacking for days, but she couldn’t procrastinate any longer. She was living with Brett. Not forever, but for a while.
This wasn’t a setback. She would view it as a stepping stone for her and the baby’s future. A way to save enough money to rent an apartment so she could make a life for them in Portland—one to be proud of. If she kept remembering that, maybe she wouldn’t feel as if she’d failed.
Unzipping her suitcase, she stared at the jumble of contents. She removed a framed photo of her family—her mother, her father, and herself. Laurel had been ten at the time, the apple of her parents’ eyes. They’d been so happy then.
How could life have gone so wrong? How could her father have walked out on them? Broken their hearts? Left her to clean up his mess?
Her dad had promised to love and take care of her, but he hadn’t. He’d not only failed her, but he’d also deserted her. That had taught her an invaluable lesson.
She needed to be able to take care of herself.
That way, if Brett did the same thing as her father, she would be able to protect both her and her child. Something her mother had been incapable of doing.
Laurel hoped, however, that Brett cared and wanted the best for the baby, that he wouldn’t taint his child with misguided beliefs or desert them the way her father had.
She removed another photo—one of her and her mother. Worthington women always survive. Her paternal grandmother had said that to Laurel on her sixteenth birthday. Laurel hoped Grandmama was right. Not only for her own sake, but her mother’s, too.
Next, Laurel pulled out the sweet snow globe with two doves inside—her wedding present from Brett—and wound the knob on the bottom. The “Wedding March” played.
This simple gift reminded Laurel of the most magical night of her life. She’d been admiring the snow globe in the lobby of the wedding chapel where they sold wedding rings, bouquets, and souvenirs. Brett must have noticed because the present was waiting for her along with her luggage when they’d arrived at the honeymoon suite after the reception.
Laurel opened a small blue velvet box. The boulder of a wedding ring glimmered under the bedroom light. The cheap, cheesy ring was nothing more than a poor imitation of the real thing—like their one-night marriage. Yet Laurel couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. The wedding ring was also a reminder of the few stolen hours with Brett. The time had been pure heaven. She never wanted to forget any of it.
She touched her belly.
And wouldn’t now that she had another reminder of that night.
She closed the ring box and then emptied the rest of her suitcase. That way nothing would keep her from working on Brett’s house. She wasn’t doing this only for his sake, but also for the baby’s too. Her little one would be spending time here.
“You’ll love your daddy’s house once I’m finished,” she spoke softly to her stomach. “I promise you, Junior, this home will be perfect for you and him.”
And somewhere out there was a place she would call home, too.
She hung up what remained of her wardrobe. Anything loose fitting she’d kept in hopes of wearing during the pregnancy, but those clothes were getting tighter.
A knock sounded.
“Laurel?” Brett asked.
“Just a minute.” She slid the snow globe under a pillow, uncertain if she wanted him to know how much his present meant to her. “Come in.”
He opened the door, entering the room. “I wanted to check on you. You were so quiet downstairs.”
“I’m fine.” She motioned to the suitcase on the bed. “I’ve been getting settled.”
“That’s great.” His dazzling smile took her breath away. As his eyes darkened, his mouth slanted. “Living out of a suitcase must be difficult.”
She nodded, but not having a place to live after moving out of her condo had been worse. Never again would she take having a roof over her head for granted. “But I don’t have to live that way any longer. And you don’t need to live in an empty house. I want to discuss what types of colors and styles of furniture you prefer.”
“Do what you want.”
She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “That’s not what you agreed to, or have you forgotten?”
He sighed. “I thought you weren’t paying attention.”
“I always pay attention.”
“I’ll have to remember that. And watch what I say.” Mischief gleamed in his eyes. “If you’re going to force me to participate, I know where I want to start.”
Laurel breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s the spirit.”
“Come on.” He led her into one of the bedrooms across the hall. “What do you think?”
Hardwood floors, lofty ceilings, a charming window seat, and a private bathroom. Nice, but no one would ever see this room. “It’s lovely, but why do you want to start here?”
“This will be the nursery.”
The nursery. She curved her arms around her belly, closed her eyes, and visualized the completed room. A rug on the floor, a rocking chair near a bookcase, a changing table and crib, a bunch of stuffed animals on the window seat, and toys. She opened her eyes. “It’s perfect, Brett, absolutely perfect.”
“I hoped you’d think so.” He motioned to the doorway. “My bedroom is across the hall. I’ll get a baby monitor, and I’ll install a video camera monitoring system.”
Her baby would have a caring father. A bit overprotective, but Laurel took comfort in the thought.
Time to get her act together. She needed to read more books. “You’ve thought of everything.”
“Not everything, but”—he moved to one wall—“the crib could go here so we can peek in without the baby seeing us. There’s space for a changing table next to the bathroom door.”
She bit back a laugh. “For someone not interested in decorating, you have lots of ideas.”
Brett shrugged, but excitement shone in his eyes. “This is different.”
“Yes, it is.” Seeing this side of him sent happiness and joy bubbling up inside her. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For considering what would be best for the baby, and…” She hesitated, feeling different. Tingly inside. Tongue-tied. “You caring so much means a lot to me and Junior.”
“Junior?”
Heat flooded her face. She hadn’t meant to say that nickname in front of Brett.
Laurel focused on the backyard below. “Sometimes I, um, talk to the baby. I use different names since I don’t know the sex. Talking to the little jelly bean makes the pregnancy seem more real since I haven’t felt him or her move and have only heard the heartbeat once.”
Brett moved toward her. “What did it sound like?”
“Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.” The memory brought a smile to her face. “It was so fast, but…”
“What?”
“Since the morning sickness got better, I don’t always feel pregnant, and it worries me. I mean, my stomach’s getting bigger because a baby’s growing inside, but I don’t always feel like there is.” Sharing her fears felt almost as intimate as the kiss they’d shared the other night. “Silly.”
“Not at all.” He extended his arm toward her belly. “Is it okay if I…?”
Nodding, she held her breath.
His fingertips touched her stomach. Gently, with reverence. He rested his palms on her belly. “Listen to Daddy, Junior. You must be moving around in there, but could you make it more obvious so your mommy won’t worry so much?”
Laurel felt her lips curve. “That’s sweet.”
She couldn’t say the same thing about her reaction to his touch. Heat radiated through the fabric of her blouse as if his handprint would be seared on her skin. Not that she cared, but she should. Laurel shouldn’t want him to keep touching her, but a part of her did.
His gaze met hers, and her heart skipped a beat.
She could almost believe they were a couple—a family.
Better watch herself. And him.
Being around Brett made her forget nothing romantic could develop between them.
N-O-T-H-I-N-G.
She had to remember that, or Junior would be the least of her worries. That meant protecting herself…and her heart.
♥ ♥ ♥
Monday afternoon in the medical center parking lot, Brett opened the car door for Laurel. They’d finished the appointment with Dr. Miles, and Brett was completely in awe at being allowed to accompany her today.
“One hundred and fifty beats per minutes.” Hearing his baby’s heartbeat made the pregnancy more real. A little person was growing each and every day inside Laurel’s stomach. “You mentioned Junior’s fast heart rate, but hearing it myself…”
“Pretty amazing.” Smiling, she slid into the car.
“I’ll say.” Brett had never heard a more wonderful sound. He walked around the car, got in, and closed the door. “What did you think of Dr. Miles?”
“He’s everything Sarah said he would be. A friendly, laid-back obstetrician. He’ll be fine.” Laurel fastened her seat belt. “What about you?”
“He seems thorough,” Brett admitted. “I hope you didn’t mind me agreeing with him about doing the additional blood tests.”
Brett had read about the triple and quad screen tests that included the alpha-fetoprotein test, or AFP. Even though Laurel was young, he was relieved she’d accepted the doctor’s recommendation for one of the tests to make sure there were no problems with the baby’s spine, as well as check for other conditions. Brett wanted to know everything about the baby, and he had the money to afford whatever tests could tell them more.
After buckling in, Brett glanced at his watch. Two-thirty. Plenty of time to return to the office, but he didn’t want to work. The market had closed, so his staff could handle after-hour trading and put out any fires if they erupted.
He turned the ignition on the car, and the engine roared to life. “Want to get ice cream?”
Laurel did a double take. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted to get ice cream. There’s a great place in the Pearl District.”
“Don’t we need to go back to MGI?”
“No.” He grinned, feeling carefree. “I’m the boss, remember.”
“I can’t believe you want to play hooky.” She eyed him cautiously. “And you want me to, too. What kind of example—”
“No one will know.”
“I’ll know.”
Brett gripped the leather-covered steering wheel. He didn’t like the worry in her voice. “I heard Junior’s heartbeat for the first time. That deserves a celebration.”
“Okay. When you put it that way…” A thoughtful curved tilted her lips before mischief took over. “I do love ice cream.”
“Mint chocolate chip.”
Her eyes widened. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything, Laurel.”
She blushed. “Really?”
Brett nodded. He shouldn’t be bringing this up, but he couldn’t help himself. “Did you think I’d forget?”
“I…” She wet her lips. “I hoped you wouldn’t.”
“I haven’t.” As his gaze captured hers, the memories rushed back. At three in the morning, she’d wanted a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Thanks to a hundred-dollar tip, a bellhop delivered Laurel’s favorite dessert, along with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and cherries. The ice cream had melted when they’d been…distracted, but the condiments had been put to good use. Brett hadn’t looked at an ice cream sundae the same since.
“Let’s celebrate.” Her eyes twinkled. “I want two cherries. And nuts. Lots of nuts.”
Her appearing more relaxed pleased him. “After the ice cream, let’s stop at a couple of baby stores and see if we can get ideas for the nursery.”
The appreciation in Laurel’s eyes warmed his insides. She flashed him a dazzling smile, and he wanted to shout, “Victory!”
Watch out.
He wanted to ignore the voice of reason in his head.
“You sure know the way to a girl’s heart,” she said playfully.
Brett’s grin widened. This was only the beginning.
♥ ♥ ♥
Sitting in his office a few days later, Brett checked his inbox one last time, closed his laptop, and slipped the computer into his bag, ready to head home. He and Laurel were settling into a comfortable routine of companionship and conversation that Brett enjoyed. He also liked going home at a reasonable hour.
Preparing dinner while chatting about their day, the house, managing money, and whatever other topic happened to come up should have bored him, but it didn’t. The time they spent together made him feel as if they were married. Well, except for no ceremony, rings, wedding license, and…sex.
She hadn’t wanted anything physical with him, and he knew on a gut level that was the right decision. Even if he wanted to touch her. Kiss her.
Brett was in over his head.
He was a man used to going after what he wanted, but he couldn’t where Laurel was concerned. Even though he wanted to show her how much they could have if they were together as a couple, he wasn’t about to ruin the foundation of friendship they were building.
He needed to focus on teaching Laurel how to manage her money and the decorating account he’d set up for her. She had so much to learn. He blamed her ignorance about the value of a dollar on her parents, who’d sheltered and insulated her from the realities of day-to-day living and finances before abandoning her and their grandchild. She was young and naïve with zero street smarts and a trusting nature.
More than anything, Brett wanted to keep her safe from a world that would gobble her up and spit her out, but she wanted to be self-sufficient. Getting her to that point was the only way he could get what he wanted.
“Are you busy?” Laurel asked from the doorway of his office.
“No.” He zipped his computer bag. “I’m ready to leave.”
Her lower lip trembled.
A weight pressed down on his chest. “What’s wrong?”
She curved her arms around her belly. “Th-the baby.”
The baby? He rose from his desk and moved toward her, forcing himself to remain quiet and not demand to know what was wrong.
Her eyes glistened with tears. She blinked. Once. Twice.
The room was so quiet Brett thought he heard the fluttering of her eyelashes. “Take your time.”
“Dr. Miles called,” she said finally, voice breaking.
“And?” The word came out too fast, too harsh. Brett wanted to smack himself. Remain calm, Matthews. In control. “What did he say?”
She bit her lip.
The fear of something being wrong with Junior or with Laurel or both tore Brett’s insides apart. Fear poured through his veins, turning him ice cold. Every passing nanosecond felt like a year, making his gut ache. He’d never experienced anything like it and never wanted to again.
“The test results came back. The AFP levels were low.” Her shaky voice faded. She took a deep breath. “He wants me to see a genetic counselor.”
Brett tried to comprehend what she was saying. “Low means…”
“I’m at risk for the baby being born with Down syndrome.”
Down syndrome and Junior. No amount of money could heal a genetic problem. Brett had never felt so helpless. But…this shouldn’t be an issue at her age. That was what the rational—the logical—side of his brain screamed. Numbers he could deal with. Emotions, forget it. “The risk can’t be that high at your age, can it?”
“One in one hundred and nine.”
“That’s less than one percent.”
“It’s still considered high.” She blinked again. “Dr. Miles recommended I have an amniocentesis.” A single tear fell from her eye. “Oh, Brett, I’m so scared. If something’s wrong with the baby…”
He wrapped his arms around her. She was soft and warm and fit perfectly against him. Holding her felt so right, despite the circumstances.
As she hugged him back, her touch comforted him. He wanted to stay like this forever.
No matter what happened, they were in this together. But he needed to remain in control. “The baby will be fine.”
“What if it’s not?” Her voice cracked. “What if—”
“Shh.” He placed his finger against her lips. “We don’t know enough yet to worry about what-ifs.”
He said that for both their benefits. Yes, he was concerned about the baby. Terrified, really, but he had a bigger concern—Laurel, who was frightened and upset. She might want to be independent and self-reliant, but he needed to be strong for her.
The way she would be there for him, too.
Together, they would face what needed to be faced. Together, they would get through this. Together…
Tears streamed down Laurel’s face.
His heart ripped in two. He struggled to think of something—anything—to say to make her feel better, but he couldn’t. That made him feel worse.
She wiped her eyes. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re not in this alone.” Brett, Laurel, and Junior. He stepped back, raised her chin with his fingertip, and gazed into her eyes. “You have the baby”—he kissed the top of her forehead—“and you have me.”
♥ ♥ ♥
Going to bed at eight o’clock had been a mistake. All Laurel had done was cry into her pillow, so Brett wouldn’t hear her sobs. She pulled out the snow globe. Hearing the “Wedding March” play, watching the doves spin, and thinking about her baby had been her salvation during the dark days in Chicago. They had kept her going…all the way to Portland, Oregon. All the way to Brett.
Listening to the music now kept her from falling apart completely, but she couldn’t shut off the emotions surging through her—the desolation. Brett was being as supportive as possible, but she felt isolated. Alone.
Yes, this affected him, too, but the baby was growing inside of her. Whatever might be wrong was wrong inside of her. No matter how hard Brett tried, no matter what he said, he couldn’t change that.
Her stomach grumbled. Food should be the least of her concerns, but she couldn’t forget she was eating for two. She headed downstairs.
Laurel rubbed her tummy. “Mommy should have eaten more tonight like your daddy said.” She sniffled. “Are you as hungry as I am, little one?”
Thinking of the tiny baby in her belly brought more tears to her eyes. She rubbed them away.
Junior had changed her life, changed her—made her grow up and accept responsibility. She needed to be strong for both her and the baby’s sake. Brett’s, too.
No more falling apart.
Whether or not something was wrong with the baby didn’t change the facts. She was having this child. There wasn’t any other choice for her. She wondered what Brett thought. If they’d loved each other, this situation might be easier to get through. But they didn’t….
As she entered the kitchen, something clicked, or maybe that was a tap. She glanced toward the family room.
Sitting in his recliner, Brett worked on his laptop. “Hungry?”
She nodded. “And thirsty.”
He set his laptop on the table, rose, and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll warm up a plate of leftovers for you.”
“I can do it.”
“I will.” He opened the refrigerator, pulled out a plate covered with plastic wrap, and placed it in the microwave. “I knew you’d want to eat eventually, so it’s ready to go.”
She sat at the table, watching him as if they’d done this hundreds of times. “Thanks.”
“Did you sleep?” he asked, his tone concerned.
“A little.”
He raised an eyebrow.
No matter how much she might want to hide the turmoil inside her, Brett saw through her.
“Not much.” She glanced at her stomach. “I can’t stop thinking about Junior.”
“Me, neither.” He poured a glass of milk and then handed it to her. “I’m also worried about you.”
“I’m…fine.” She spoke before thinking. No doubt her eyes were red and swollen. “I’ll be fine once we know…I mean…”
“I understand.”
She saw the mixture of weariness, worry, and fear in his eyes. He was suffering as much as she was, and her heart cried out to him.
“I’ve been doing some research,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “The AFP is only a screening test to tell you the percentage of risk of something being wrong, but that doesn’t mean there’s a problem. The odds of that are low. And false positives are known to happen. If you want me to show you what I found…”
“Thanks, but—”
The timer dinged. Brett removed the plate. “What?”
After she sipped the milk, she set her glass on the table. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
He placed a fork, napkin, and plate on the table. “Sounds serious.”
She nodded. When she arrived in Portland, she’d said he was nothing more than a sperm donor. Then she’d come to think of him as the baby’s father. But would he stick by her and Junior through thick and thin? Or would he desert them the way her parents had her?
“No matter what the test results or the genetic counselor says, I’m having this baby.” She patted her belly. “I love Junior. He or she is the only family I have left, and the number of chromosomes won’t change the way I feel. I…I thought you should know.”
He exhaled deeply. “Thanks, and so you know, I’ll stand by you.”
Even though his support made her happy, Laurel’s muscles tensed. Did he still want the baby if it was less than perfect?
Afraid to ask, afraid to discover the truth, she took a bite of spaghetti.
Brett sat at the table. “I’m so relieved.”
She held her fork in midair. “Relieved?”
He nodded. The tightness around his mouth eased. “Forget what the tests say, I want this baby so much it hurts.”
His sincerity brought tears to her eyes. A welcome peace settled in her heart. “I’m happy we agree on this.”
“Me, too.” As one side of his mouth curved up, he leaned back in his chair. “Since the test results won’t change what we do, did you know we can skip the amniocentesis?”
“Yes, but…” Laurel moved food around on her plate. She shouldn’t feel so uncertain about how he would react. “I want to have it. There could be complications, but after everything that’s happened these past months, I need to know. Knowing won’t make a difference, and I’ll love this baby no matter what, but I don’t think I’ll relax during the rest of the pregnancy with that uncertainty hanging over me. If something is wrong, I’ll have time to prepare and be ready when the baby is born.” She sighed. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”
“You’re making perfect sense to me.”
“You’re being nice.” And supportive and understanding and caring and… She needed Brett. More than she’d needed anyone or anything in her life. “Do you mind if I go ahead with the amnio?”
“Not at all. You should.” His reassuring tone made her feel so much better. “Who knows what my father passed on to me?”
“That never entered my mind, Brett.”
“It entered mine. Enough that it’s time I find out what my mother knows about him.” With a faraway look in his eyes, he rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I’ll fly your mother in from France.”
“No,” Laurel said a little too quickly. “Thank you for offering, but I’d rather you didn’t.”
He said nothing, but questions lingered in his eyes.
She needed to tell him the truth, so he wouldn’t do it anyway as a surprise. “There’s something I haven’t told you about my mother.”
“You don’t have—”
“I do.” Laurel wet her lips. “When my mother found out I was pregnant, she told me to get rid of it. Those were her exact words. If she thought for a minute the baby wasn’t one-hundred-percent healthy… I don’t want her here. I don’t want her to know the test results.”
Reaching across the table, Brett held Laurel’s hand and stroked her thumb with his own. His warmth seeped into her, filling up all the empty places inside her. “I’m sorry.”
His voice was so tender, practically a caress.
“Thanks.” She stared at her hand engulfed in his larger one. He was strong, yet his gentle touch offered comfort and provided a safe haven.
Being part of a family suddenly sounded better than all the independence in the world, but she couldn’t pretend the security she felt with Brett was real. They could never be a family.
Not without love.
If only he saw how much they could have together, if they loved one another.
“Is there anyone else you would want to go with you to the amnio?” As his gaze met hers, a flash of the magic they’d shared in Reno shot through her. She wished they could hold on to that forever. “Tell me who, and I’ll—”
“The only person I want with me”—she squeezed his hand—“is you.”