Our food arrives, and we dig in, the conversation dying down a bit. In the middle of her lobster roll, Rachel looks up and blinks.
“Do you ever miss being in one place? After a lifetime of travel, do you think you could settle down?”
Wow, that’s a big question, but this woman already means a lot to me, and she deserves an honest answer. I sit back from the table for a moment and just look at her pretty features. “I don’t know. I never did, at least not until recently. The Max Wyndham brand has been around for a while now, and it’s pretty established. I don’t have to hustle the way I used to, that’s for sure.”
Rachel nods, her eyes wide.
“Of course, everyone knows you, even people not in the beauty industry. You’re huge, Uncle Max!”
I nod.
“Yeah, and it keeps me on my toes. I have a deal with Sephora where I need to do an appearance whenever they open a new store.”
Rachel gasps, her brown eyes wide.
“But there are so many Sephoras, and they’re always opening new locations all over the world!”
I nod ruefully.
“Exactly. And they’re opening retail centers in far-flung locations like Iceland and Kazakhstan these days, so as you can guess, I’m in the air more often than I am on land some months. But it is what it is, and I’m grateful for the opportunity. It just wears on me sometimes,” I acknowledge. “Does that make sense?”
Rachel shoots me a thoughtful look and my heart contracts for a moment. Her opinion matters to me, and I wait with bated breath to hear her response.
“I think I do. Uncle Max. Or at least, as much as I’m able.”
I grin and exhale with relief. We really connect, even if the curvy brunette is decades younger. I nod.
“I think your dad gets it too. Maurice knows I’m sick of glitz and glamour, and the little cottage here is exactly what I need. No celebrities, no paparazzi, and no crushing pressure. It’s just the sun, sand, sea, and a beautiful woman too.”
Rachel’s cheeks blush and she’s so gorgeous that the breath catches in my throat. Is she part of the reason I’m ready to slow down? Is she influencing this decision in any way? Of course, I was already contemplating pulling back from the business before, but now, has it taken on a new urgency?
But I want to talk about Rachel too.
“How about you, honey? What’s going on in your life? How is Birthing Babies coming along?”
The curvy brunette lets out a peal of laughter.
“Well, glitz and glamour are certainly not in the vocabulary I would use to describe my work, that’s for sure.”
“So tell me about it,” I invite.
She sighs.
“Well, I love my job, to be honest. I cater to women who want home births. I don’t know if you’ve ever been unfortunate enough to go to a NYC hospital with any sort of emergency, but it’s like herding cattle through a chute. There’s nothing natural or holistic about it because you just feel like you’re a small mite in a huge industrial operation. Not that it’s all bad,” she adds hastily. “I have no complaints about the actual caregivers or providers, but in NYC, the hospitals are too crowded and the staff is totally overworked. Try having a baby in that sort of environment.”
I nod and think for a moment.
“You have a good point, sweetheart. To be honest, it’s never crossed my mind before because I’ve never thought about it. But it makes sense and sounds stressful.”
She laughs, her tone melodious and sweet. “Unfortunately, it is stressful. Most of my clients don’t even know what a New York hospital is like until after their tour. Then, they see the conveyor belt-like production line, and they’re just not interested. So I provide options. As a midwife, I’m able to go to my client’s home, and to create a warm, loving environment where they can go into labor in peace. Well, as peaceful as delivery can be,” she amends.
“So I take it you like being a midwife?” I ask.
Rachel brightens, her expression lighting up.
“Oh yes. Most people don’t have a clue what it takes to be a midwife in New York State because they think it’s just some hand-holding along with lighting incense and chanting hippie mantras. But New York actually requires midwives to have a master’s degree to be licensed, so it’s not nothing.”
“Of course,” I say in a supportive tone. “I’m sure you’re one of the best, honey.” Rachel throws me a sweet look.
“Thanks, but it’s just frustrating when we’re snubbed by doctors who think they know everything because they have an MD. I’m not questioning their medical judgment, but giving birth is about more than just popping a baby out. The environment matters a lot, and sometimes, physicians just don’t get that.”
I nod.
“Of course. It makes sense because giving birth is potentially one of the most important moments of a woman’s life.”
Rach nods, and for a moment, an image flashes into my mind. It’s of the curvy girl holding a baby to her breast, suckling the child. Even more, it’s my child she’s cradling, and a rush of possession runs through me. Where is this coming from? I’ve always been a confirmed bachelor who lived a fast-paced life without any commitments. But now, the thought of Rachel’s tummy heavy and full with my baby inside makes need flow through my veins.
I try to hide it, of course, as the curvy girl talks more about her job, but I’m not listening. Instead, I’m watching the sassy girl’s animated gestures, and the way her eyes take on a look of devotion and care.
Suddenly, it strikes me. Rachel’s absolutely beautiful. Not just her face and her curves, but her soul is gorgeous. I find myself regretting the fact that soon enough, life will take us on our different paths. Rather abruptly, I interrupt.
“How long do you think you can stay at the cottage?”
Rachel’s face falls a bit at the change in subject. She laughs, but there’s a regretful undertone to it.
“To be honest, I probably need to head back before the weekend.”
My heart contracts. Fuck. It’s already Tuesday, which gives us only a few more days together. Suddenly, I want her to stay, and I want our idyllic vacation to continue forever. But she can’t because there are babies waiting to be born, and I can’t either, because I have a business to tend to. So instead, I school my expression into neutrality.
“Of course. A job is a job, and these kids come when they feel like it.”
She merely smiles faintly. “Yes, that’s true. But what about you, Max? What does the next chapter hold for you?”
I look down at the remnants of my lobster roll.
“I have to get back too. I probably have more flexibility than you, but I can’t avoid my clients forever. There’s work to be done,” I say in a rueful tone.
She nods, looking thoughtful, and it’s then that I decide to ask a question that’s been niggling at the corners of my mind.
“Can I ask something?” I begin.
“Of course,” Rachel nods with a brilliant smile. “What is it?”
I pause.
“Well, is there something bringing you to the cottage? Beyond a much-needed vacation, I mean? I sense something in the air.”
She freezes and a vague, “Mm-hmm” is all I get back at first.
I nod.
“Don’t feel that you have to talk about it, sweetheart. If it’s private, I completely respect that.”
The pretty brunette sighs, tucking a chestnut curl behind one ear.
“No, it’s just that …” She blows out a breath. “Where do I even start?”
“Wherever you want. I’m all ears, honey.”
Rachel sighs again, looking out in the distance at the sparkling water. Gulls swoop and dip in the air, while the faint cries of children laughing greet our ears. Then she looks back at me and smiles ruefully.
“I was in a three-year relationship that ended rather abruptly two weeks ago.”
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “Three years?”
“Yeah,” she says. “It’s a long time, right? Danny and I met through a couple of mutual friends, and we hit it off. We had a lot of the same values and goals in life. Well, at least I thought we did.”
“What happened?”
She sighs again.
“Well, I wanted to take our relationship to the next level. I wanted marriage. A family. A life together with someone, you know? At least, I thought that’s what I wanted. Looking back of course, he was totally wrong for me, but hey, hindsight is 20/20.”
I nod but keep my expression neutral.
“So what prompted the break-up?”
Rachel shakes her head then, her expression impossible to read.
“You’re going to love this. I met Danny for lunch one day to talk to him about potentially taking our relationship to the next level, but instead, he surprises me and breaks up instead. He tells me he’s fallen in love with an eighteen year old undergrad at NYU, and that the age difference is nothing. He’s thirty, mind you, so hardly a spring chicken.”
I whistle.
“Shit, Rach. That’s fucked up.”
She nods.
“Yes, but do you want to know something even more crazy?”
“Sure.”
“He told me that I needed to start getting serious about a relationship and settling down. He said I wasn’t getting any younger and that if I want children, I need to buckle down and find someone to marry ASAP. The nerve! What a total asshole!”
I growl my displeasure at the son of a bitch who said that. Then, I get up and pull Rachel up from her chair before wrapping my arms around her curvy form. I breathe in deeply, inhaling her sweet cinnamon scent, as she trembles against my broad chest.
“You’re not old, Rach,” I murmur. “If anything you’re young. I mean, you’re what? Twenty-six?”
She smiles a bit.
“Twenty-seven.”
I snort.
“See? Exactly. Now, I’m old because I’m forty-nine. You’re nothing but a baby, sweetheart, and that fucker is an asshole who doesn’t deserve you. I guarantee that his new girlfriend is going to dump his ass for the next frat boy that shows her any attention.”
She throws her head back and laughs at my words. “From your lips to God’s ears, handsome.”
But I’m serious, and nuzzle her neck once more.
“Baby, you know you’re not old, right? I really mean it.”
She laughs tunelessly.
“Of course I do. I help women well into their forties give birth all the time.”
“So you know you’re ripe and fertile. You’re one of a kind sweetheart, and there’s no need to be down on yourself because of your age. Your ex is a fucking asshole, saying those things.”
She nods. She understands, but I’m not sure she’s completely internalized my words. Then, Rachel looks up and her chestnut eyes are so big and brown that my heart melts.
“Are you happy, Uncle Max?” she asks.
“Happy with what?”
“With life,” she replies simply. “You know, with everything.”
I think a moment before answering her question. “I’m happy, Rach. I love my job, even though it’s annoying and difficult from time to time. That’s just how all jobs are. But my priorities are shifting, and I’m curious to see how things turn out. You never know. Even for an old dog like me, things change.”
Rachel nods and it seems like she wants to ask something, but then she bites her lip and remains silent. I tilt her chin up and gaze deeply into her chocolate eyes. “I’m happy here with you in a way I haven’t been happy in a long time, sweetheart. That’s all I’m saying.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and I’m not quite sure what’s next for us now.