“Taffy, you can’t sit in my lap while I’m driving,” Brady explained for what felt like the twentieth time since they’d left the vet’s office.
Bean was content to sit in the back seat and lick the window while occasionally giving a happy woof when he spotted a person, but Taffy kept trying to squeeze between the two front seats and not to sit on Christy’s lap.
“Sit, Taffy,” she said for what was probably the twenty-first time and Brady chuckled. The dogs were pretty well behaved, but for some reason riding in the car was so exciting their exuberance overcame their admittedly basic training, which was why he usually drove the three of them to vet appointments. They often went with Christy to run short errands, but on longer drives, Brady preferred not to have to worry about Taffy taking control of the steering wheel.
“Thank you for driving,” his mom said when they’d finally parked in front of her house and released the dogs into the yard. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”
“I have plans,” he said, tossing her the keys and taking his own out of his pocket. “But thanks for the offer.”
“I have some leftover ham if you want a quick sandwich. Or there’s banana bread.”
The banana bread was tempting, but he thought about the paint samples sitting in a bag on the passenger seat of his truck. He was excited to show them to Reyna and see what she thought of the colors he was considering for the room he’d chosen to be the baby’s.
“Please,” his mom said quietly. “Can you just stay for a few minutes?”
There was something in her voice that drew his attention away from the prospect of debating paint colors. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, but I’d like to talk to you and I don’t really want to do it standing in the driveway.”
Dread curled through his gut as he imagined all the things it could be, since his mom usually chattered away wherever they were—garden, porch, shed, driveway. She was never shy about having a conversation, no matter the surroundings.
Then he took a deep breath. He’d probably know if she’d had an appointment with the doctor, so she wasn’t sick. Anything else, they could figure out.
“Just sit on the porch with me for a minute,” she added. “It won’t take long, I promise.”
“Of course,” he said, feeling like a heel for hesitating in the first place.
“I know I said I never wanted to talk about Anna again,” she said when they were seated, and Brady felt himself tense.
“You made that pretty clear.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it. But I have to accept that it was hard on you boys to find out about her, especially the way you did. I just need to know if we’re okay.”
Her voice cracked a little as she spoke, and Brady reached over to cover her hand with his. “Mom, we love you. Yeah, this has been a lot to wrap our heads around, but that doesn’t mean we’re not okay.”
“And you’re both willing to just let it be? I…” She stopped and thought for a second, tears shimmering in her eyes. “When we’re together as a family, I don’t want it to be like it was Christmas Eve. It was painful and I felt distant from you both.”
“It was very fresh on Christmas Eve,” he reminded her. “Is it hard to just let it go? Yes. But Chris and I have talked about it a couple of times since then, and we know that trying to find her would not only hurt you, but could potentially blow up her life. That’s not something we want to do.”
Breath seemed to rush out of her lungs, and the relief on her face broke his heart. He didn’t want his mother ever questioning if her sons still loved her as much as they had before they found out she had a daughter they didn’t know. “Thank you. I love you both so much, you know.”
“We love you, too, Mom.” He stood so he could kiss her upturned cheek. “You don’t need to worry about us. Or about all of us being together as a family. I promise we’re okay.”
“Good.” She wiped tears from her cheek and stood. “So you said you have plans tonight. Are you and Reyna going out?”
“I’m making dinner for her, so they’re not really grand plans, but there’s marinade involved, so I don’t want to run too late.”
“Dinner in is always nice,” she said as they walked toward his truck. “Even if you have to wash your own dishes.”
“I don’t mind. We clean up the mess together.” It was one of his favorite parts, though he didn’t tell his mom that. He loved the simple things about his time with Reyna. Washing dishes. Working in the yard, cleaning up the early spring mess.
And getting her opinion about the paint colors he’d chosen, he thought, which renewed his desire to get home and get dinner started.
“Tell her I said hello,” his mom said, squeezing his hand.
“I will. Love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, honey.”
He looked in the rearview mirror as he drove away, watching her for a few seconds as she threw a stick for the dogs and laughed. She looked happy, and it eased some of the weight he’d felt since finding out he had a sister out there somewhere.
Now that the shock had worn off, he knew it was right to respect her decision to let Anna live her life in peace. And the Nash family would look forward. They had CJ and Benny, and a baby on the way. They would all be okay, and he also knew that decisions his parents had made had nothing to do with what kind of father he would be. His baby might be just a tiny bump right now, but he already knew there was no way he would ever leave his child. He felt incredibly peaceful as he turned up the radio and pulled onto the main road.
But an hour later, when Reyna’s car pulled into his driveway and he felt the happy anticipation of seeing her he always felt—Reyna’s home—that peaceful bubble deflated just a little.
Reyna wasn’t home. Reyna was at his house for dinner. They’d eat. Hopefully look at paint samples. Make love. But no matter how much pleasure he found in those moments with her, he had to hold on to that small piece of painful truth.
This wasn’t Reyna’s home. And it becoming hers wasn’t part of the plan.
* * *
“Something smells good,” Reyna said as she dropped her wallet and keys on the table next to Brady’s and made her way to the kitchen.
He’d just taken the broiler pan out of the oven and set it on the stovetop, and he didn’t bother to take off the oven mitts before pulling her into his arms. She thought she glimpsed a flash of something—sadness or regret?—in his eyes, but then he kissed her hello so thoroughly she was convinced she must have imagined it.
While they ate delicious broiled steak tips and Caesar salad, he told her about his trip to the vet with his mom, Bean and Taffy. She’d had an annoying day that included a customer who didn’t want to pay the price he’d signed an estimate agreeing to and being shipped the wrong part for another car, but the lingering frustration that a hot shower and a half hour in her craft cave hadn’t cured faded away as they talked and laughed.
Dinner had become her favorite part of the day. She looked forward to it while she worked, knowing that once the workday was over, this man would be there to laugh with. To relax with.
She knew they should be going out. The point of fake dating was so that people would know they were seeing each other, and staying behind closed doors—whether his or hers—didn’t do much for that story. But she didn’t care. She’d rather be alone with Brady than out in public with him any day. This time was important to her.
Besides, as long as they were parked in front of each other’s places, the story was being told.
“I had to run to the hardware store today,” he said when they were finished cleaning up.
“You’re at the hardware store so often, I’m surprised you don’t have your own parking spot in the employee lot out back.”
“That would be handy in the summer, when there’s no parking. But while I was there today, I grabbed some paint samples. Want to see them?”
“Sure. What are you painting?”
“I’ll show you.”
Assuming it was part of the ongoing renovation of the house, she followed him up the stairs and past the master bedroom. She knew from an earlier tour of the house that he was taking her to a medium-sized bedroom on the back of the house. It had big windows that let in a lot of natural light and overlooked the backyard.
When he stepped back so she could enter, she gave him a questioning look, but he just smiled and flipped the overhead light on since the sun was already setting.
The room was still empty, but now there were paint chips taped up on the walls. The pastel colors cued her in immediately to the fact this room was for the baby, and her stomach knotted. She pressed her hand to her belly as he moved to stand beside her.
“I picked this room for the nursery,” he said, and the enthusiasm in his voice just made her feel worse.
She felt like she was playing house with this man, but at the end of the day, she was going to take her doll and go home.
Except the doll was their baby and she liked playing house with the man in question. When they were cooking and cleaning and puttering around in his garden beds to get ready for planting, it was easy between them. Comforting, even.
But this room wasn’t easy. Being in this room and hearing him call it the nursery reminded her that this wasn’t her home. That their baby would live with her, in her apartment, and sleep in a crib in the corner of her bedroom. This room would be for weekends and probably longer visits during the summer, although that wouldn’t really matter since they both lived in the same small school district.
How old would the child be before it realized this house was a whole lot nicer than Mom’s apartment over the bakery?
“I like this really pale pastel yellow,” Brady said, walking over to one of the paint chips. “I think it’s cheerful and warm, and it’s gender neutral. You can match any of the other pastel colors with it.”
“It’s pretty,” she said, hoping her voice and face wouldn’t give away any of the inner turmoil she was feeling.
She wanted Brady to be excited about the baby. She loved that he was so happy to be choosing just the right color for the room he’d picked to be the nursery. The joy and excitement were almost palpable.
But she wasn’t sure he realized that she wasn’t a part of what this room was going to become. This would be where the baby slept when it was Dad’s turn.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and she looked away from the paint chips to find him frowning at her. She really wished she was better at masking her thoughts.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, but she knew he’d want more than that, especially considering this was a happy thing in his mind. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for this?”
That explanation must have worked, because his expression cleared and he chuckled. “Again with superstition? You’re like halfway through your second trimester, and all your appointments have been perfect. I think we’re safe to paint the walls.”
The we in that statement stuck out in her mind, but she was determined not to darken this moment for him. And no matter what, this would be her child’s room. Even if it was for weekends with Dad, she could take joy in helping make it a perfect nursery.
“You’re right,” she said, giving him a genuine smile. “You’re also right about that yellow. I like that it’s such a subtle color, but also bright at the same time.”
“Like sunshine.” He picked a stack of chips up off the floor. “The trim is harder, though. I can’t decide if white is too bright against it. But a contrasting color is less neutral. Know what I mean?”
“I like that soft country blue,” she said. “Girls like blue, you know.”
“They do look good together.” He held the paint chip next to the yellow one, and stood back as far as his arm’s reach allowed. “We should look at them during the day, too, when there’s more natural light, but I like them together. What kind of light fixture, do you think? And do babies like ceiling fans?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard a baby give an opinion on ceiling fans one way or the other.”
He laughed. “True. They’re nice on low speed just for circulating the air, I guess.”
She listened to him talking about fans and dimmer switches and carbon monoxide detectors, letting the sound of his voice wash away her earlier worries. This was a good thing, she told herself.
They were going to have a baby who was loved and nurtured and kept safe by both of them. That was all she’d wanted.
If what she wanted had changed since the day she asked Brady to father her child, that was something she would have to live with if she wanted to protect this happiness they were sharing right now.
“Once we decide on the colors, I’ll have Chris come over and help me paint,” he was saying. “But what about the floor? I love the hardwood, but carpet is quieter. And softer.”
“I like the hardwood, and it’ll be easier to play cars and build Lego blocks on someday,” she said. “But a big area rug would look nice, matching the window trim.”
He nodded and after a long moment during which she could see that he was imagining what the finished room would look like, he pulled her into his arms. “I’m obsessing, aren’t I?”
She laughed and wrapped her arms around his waist. “A little bit. But it’s adorable, to be honest. Seeing you so excited.”
“Adorable?” He wrinkled his nose.
“Sexy?”
“That’s better.” He pulled her hips against his. “Want to go visit my room now?”
“Is that a new pickup line? Want to go back to my room and see my paint chips?”
He ran his thumb over her bottom lip and she shivered. “Hey, if it works.”
“Let’s be honest. You had me at broiled steak tips.”
After turning off the light, he closed the nursery door behind them when they left it, and Reyna breathed a sigh of relief. That room was for the future—a future that didn’t include her rocking her baby in that room or eating broiled steak tips in his kitchen.
When Brady lifted her hair to place a hot kiss on the back of her neck, Reyna put the room and that future out of her mind. Tonight, all that mattered was the right now.